


The Iron Fist of Meteo

by Jaslazul



Category: Star Fox Series
Genre: Anal Sex, Crimes & Criminals, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Secret Relationship, Self-Reflection, Villains, Violence, dumb and absurd symbols and metaphors, fwbs to lovers, self-actualization, sex as a plot device
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26447545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaslazul/pseuds/Jaslazul
Summary: Lord O'Donnell runs a damn tight ship, but what good's an empire if you spend all your time putting out small fires? Join Wolf in his misguided quest for self-actualization, which happens to lead him right to his former rival... and a conflict between what he has and what he wants most.Not a slow burn:  a fast-paced, character-focused story where a developing relationship plays a critical role in a larger character arc.
Relationships: Fox McCloud/Wolf O'Donnell
Comments: 38
Kudos: 130





	1. City that Never Sleeps

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story about Wolf's world. Wolf's world is rough. Content warning: literally everything. Alcohol, gay sex, violence, gratuitous anal, cursing, gay sex, noncon (not in the pairing), knots, bad attempts at Literary Devices, and sappy fluff. This story reads more as an "erotic furry romance novella" than it does a "canon-compliant tonally-consistent Star Fox fan fiction," so I encourage you to only dive in if that sounds like something you're interested in. 
> 
> While there will be oodles of explicit sex in here, most of it falls firmly into the category of 'sex as a plot device' or 'sex as a vehicle for characterization.' I plan on royally pissing off everyone by putting in way too much sex for people who like 'regular' fics but not enough to satisfy the people who like smutfics and porn.
> 
> I also welcome feedback of all forms, so don't hesitate to write me if there's something you want to discuss.

In Meteo, there was no morning. No sunrise. No workday. The bloom of artificial sunlight woke him, but when it wilted away, the window outside showed only the familiar black nothingness of space. That was it--that nothing: His city. His people. _His_ nothing. Sargasso was the city that never slept, and Wolf O'Donnell was its overlord: the Iron Fist of the Iron Ass on the Iron Throne, scraping away at the rust with a chisel--and he never got a goddamn _break_. 

Fifteen minutes to shower and dry. Five to get dressed, and five more to down a shake and coffee. Ten to review messages, and by then he'd entered the hangar. Into the Wolfen he vaulted, and he was gone.

* * *

The stench of alcohol and weed stung his nose. Wolf didn't bother scoping out the joint: it wasn't worth his precious time. The prevailing tongue in this shithole was a lazy, drunken slur aimed at one of the whores straddling a pole, the kind of whores that gave pole-dancing a bad rep to begin with: all ass, no skill. Then again, what else would one expect from some dive on the ass-end of Meteo?

Even drunks gave him clearance: clocking Wolf O'Donnell at your ten never bode well, especially this far from Sargasso. The bartender, a beanpole of a rat, did a double-take when he turned to find Wolf with his elbows resting down on the faux-wood of the bar. 

"I... Lord O'Donnell." He clutched the shaker in his hands, seemingly forgotten despite the frost building on its exterior. "I--"

"Find me Gale."

The rat's shoulders relaxed and he nodded, setting the shaker down. "Ah. Right this way."

At least when he pushed into the back room, the scents were muted. The rat led him down a corridor and pointed at a door before scampering off. Wolf pounded a fist three times and greeted the ferret who answered his knock with a friendly raised blaster.

Gale's eyebrows shot up, followed by his hands. "Wolf?"

"You greedy little bastard." Wolf pushed his way into the small office, keeping his good eye and his blaster both trained on the guy's ugly face. "How do you live with yourself when you can't even run a whorehouse right?"

"I don't know what you're talki--"

Wolf silenced that with a slap. Even more satisfying than the crack of leather gloves against fur was the squeal the ferret loosed in response. "Don't pretend you don't know why I'm here. Do you have any idea what a pain it is to come all the way out here clean up your shit?" Wolf growled. "The only reason I greenlit you here is because I made the mistake of thinking you'd stay in line. So when I hear one of your secret pet whores is barely even thirteen years old, I get a little upset."

The ferret's lips pursed together. He'd paused mid-caress on the spot Wolf had slapped, stammering. "How did--it was never... official."

"I don't care, _cunt_. You're in my turf, and my word is law." Wolf leaned in closer and squinted. "I'll be planting someone here to take over your business. Then I'll be shipping your ass back to Fichina. Your family, too."

"I'll be arrested on sight! Please, Wolf--"

Wolf leaned in and snarled, and the ferret cowered back. "You should have thought about that before you went under my nose. Pack your things and leave. Your replacement arrives in half an hour, and you'd better be gone by then."

The ferret couldn't muster a word; all he could manage was a meek nod before he turned away, drooping. A lesser man might take pity. Wolf was no lesser man. He headed for the door. "Idiot," he muttered, before stepping out.

He could tolerate the air in the bar only long enough to order a drink before heading towards the exit, still carrying the glass with him. He took a long drag from the impressively-tasteless lager and was about to push through the door when a slurred voice to his right gave him pause.

"O'Donnell. Izzit true yer a tailraiser?"

Wolf finished his sip. The offender was a muscular horse who might have been attractive if he didn't have such slumped posture. Beer-stains dotted his clothes and he stunk of self-loathing.

"Yes," Wolf said, and raised his glass. He poured the rest of his good-as-water lager right over the top of the horse's dumbstruck head. The drunk scrambled to his feet, but tripped on the way up. Wolf leaned in closer, grabbing at the guy's collar. "You're just gonna let a faggot do this to you, huh?"

All these 'tailraiser' comments were a lot more entertaining when he considered that these fuckheads would probably run screaming and whimpering and crying to Mama if anything got near their precious sacred temple of an ass, and they thought that made them tough? Hell, this guy couldn't even look him in the eye. Wolf watched on the horse's arms, waiting to intercept a strike, but none came. 

This fuckface was a symbol of everything wrong with Meteo. Hell, at least Gale had ambitions. This guy looked tough, but he was made of paper. He talked big, but he folded the second he met resistance. And he was dumb as a load of factory-reject bricks.

Ass-end of Meteo was generous. More like the ass-end of Meteo that forget to wipe.

"You aren't even worth pulling my gun. Fuck off." A shove later, and Wolf stormed out the door into the warped metallic halls of the station's interior.

Wolf leaned his back against the bar's entrance while he tended to his comm, scrolling through messages and e-mails while pointedly ignoring his surroundings. This station leased space mostly to commercial operations, but these were, for the most part, the types of places one would never admit to going. Unlicensed dentists, doctors with revoked medical licenses, electronics shops that specialized in illicit repairs and counterfeiting, all advertised through bright, gleaming neon signs... like Corneria's hazardous waste bin, and Wolf had to mop it up like an overworked janitor. This part of Meteo was a cesspool. It was, if nothing else, a reminder of how far things had come. 

Eight years ago, the whole asteroid belt had looked like this, a lawless criminal haven too expensive for Corneria to police after the war. Half of all contracts a pilot might take in these parts ended in someone getting stabbed in the back. Murders happened daily as cartels fought for shipping rights, battled for airspace, and snuffed out competition with deadly force. But five years ago, Wolf O'Donnell won that war.

Some parts, though, were slow to adapt. The riff-raff needed to be slapped around now and then to remember their place.

Wolf deftly went through his speed-dial. "Mira," Wolf said when the line picked up. "It's done. And hell, can we nuke this whole damn station, while we're at it?"

"Very good, Boss," came a quiet voice back to him. "Unfortunately, Sector Nine is one of our most profitable."

"I know, I know." One thing Wolf accepted was that some people were better at some things than he was. Mira had been one of his better pick-ups, and the weasel had been all too eager to seek asylum from a slew of corporate lawsuits. "It better be, for this to be worth it. Do you need anything else out here?"

He finished off his drink while he waited for a response. The weasel required patience, at times. Mira's voice came back after a few minutes. "In Sector Eight, the repair shop."

Wolf sucked his teeth, and his thoughts returned to that old crocodile. "Right. Fang's."

"He is a week behind working on our ships."

Wolf pushed past a hippo couple on his way towards the hangar. "Fang's an old, old friend, and if he's behind, something's up. I'll pay him a visit. Hope the old fart's doing alright." He pushed pack a pair of monkeys, who squirmed and stared as they realized who he was. "I'll head there now. I'm out, Mira." As soon as he closed the line, though, his comm beeped at him again, already... which prompted a frustrated growl. He took this call audio only because he really didn't want to stare at this monkey's ugly face.

"Eli?" He snapped. "Make it quick." In his peripheral vision, heads cocked his way, making damn sure Wolf O'Donnell wasn't yelling at _them_.  
  
"Boss. Sorry to bug you, but--"

"Then fucking get to the point."

Eli sighed. "If this is a bad time--"

"Holy _shit_ , man. Talk!" 

"That journalist I mentioned--"

"I told you to send her off." He'd come to the stairs leading down to the bay, and he started his descent. Eli had until Wolf reached his ship to speak, else he'd get hung up on.

"If she gets your story out, there's gonna be so much good press. You know the narratives everyone gets told, and this is your chance to clean 'em up!"

"Yeah. And?"

The momentary silence spoke volumes about how much the stupid ape thought this through. "And you could get the bounty removed. I know it can be done. It just takes some work, and she's your path in. She just needs an hour or so with you to talk."

Wolf had come to his ship by now, and he leaned up against it, sighing. Gods, this was like talking to a child. "This ain't a children's book, and I don't need a redemption arc."

"Yes, but... I know you didn't have a choice, okay? You could get out of this."

"What, you think I'm going to turn over a new leaf and work at a damn grocery store?"

"You're being dumb. Talk to Mira, please? Maybe it could be worth it from a business perspective?"

Wolf growled. "I'm fine just the way I am, thanks. Corneria wants me to be the damn enemy, I'll be the damn enemy. I worked damn hard to build my bad reputation, and I ain't gonna just throw away such a valuable asset."

"Just ten minutes? She's put a lot of work into researching you, and the least you could do is respect that."

Wolf opened the hatch on his ship and climbed in, settling his ass down against the cushion. "Tell her I'll send her a dick pic if she wants my attention so bad. Otherwise, fuck off. And don't waste my time with this again." With that, Wolf closed the line.

* * *

  
The excursions took over half his waking hours. After an hour at the gym and a post-workout shower, Wolf threw on pants and stared down the old angry-looking fuck in the mirror. He'd been doing a lot less fighting and a lot more sitting on his ass and barking, so no surprise he'd put on some extra weight. Five years ago, whipping himself into shape would have been a top priority, but he hadn't yet decided if he'd let the extra ten pounds piss him off when so many other things competed for that right. 

Maybe he ought to just do a fuckload of drugs; that'd shave the paunch off real fast. And the off-chance he wouldn’t wake up in the morning was just a bonus, wasn’t it?

He'd been flirting with one of his fuckbuddies (that pretty little bunny twink with a bottomless pit of an ass) all through the week, but he hadn't done much other than squeeze one off in the shower or cockpit in what felt like months. Shit, he needed to get laid, but screwing the same five no-lifes for the past three years bored him to tears, and harvesting fresh meat was damn-near impossible when every motherfucker in Meteo carried a knife clenched behind their back, ready to plunge it in the second they got the chance. Wolf had all this damn dick and nowhere to put it.

Fatigue was clearly wilting his focus, so he downed a pill from his cabinet drawer to perk him up. Next on the list was a team meeting, an hour ahead, but there was still so much to do before then. He punched a few buttons on his comm to start another call, this one audio-visual, and busied himself with drying his head-fur. When he pulled the towel down, a holographic image of Falco's head stared back at him.

"The hell do you want? I'm kinda busy here."

"I'm sure it can wait two minutes," Wolf said. "I'll be fast. There's a ship set to land on one of my stations in a couple days. They've got some cargo I want, and they haven't paid their dues. I've got word they booked CDF to cover their asses."

"Could you at least put a shirt on?"

"I need to know if Fox McCloud is going to be there."

Falco raised a brow. Over the past five years, the bird had started to look less like a rebellious teenager and more like a somewhat disgruntled professional who was just having a bad hair day. Bad feather day. Whatever. "How the hell should I know? I told ya, I ditched the team last year."

"And Fox likes you too much to clear your credentials. Check his bookings, see if he'll be there. I don't want the wrath of God coming down on my crew because I ran into Corneria's Golden Boy again."

Falco sighed. He was silent for a while, eyes scanning something on his screen. Wolf took the time to finish drying off his hair. The rest of Wolf's fur was already mostly dry from the drier next to his shower, but his more copious headfur took that little bit of extra effort. "Yeah, no. He's got some kinda charity banquet that night, looks like."

"Fine. Thanks, little bird."

"Wolf, I can't have you calling me like this. This isn't gonna be a regular thing, is it?"

"You're the one who picked up, dumbass."

"You could just call him yourself."

Dodge. Duck. Maneuver. Barrel roll and boost out of sight. "I've gotta run. Places to go, people to do." He turned to hang up his towel on the bar. "You ever get bored living on royalties and want to do some real work again, drop me a line. I'm sure I can find something for you, and I don't have nearly as big a stick up my ass as that Mama's boy you used to work with."

Falco rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever." The display went to static, and the connection closed.

* * *

Panther and Leon sat across from him on the round table. Wolf's tablet rested on the center of it. "We've got two missions," he said.

The others had their own tablets out, loading the files Wolf had aired. Panther spoke first. "Hm. The Cornerian Defense Force. I remember last time, that fox--"

"I checked," Wolf said. "McCloud won't be there. We're fine."

Panther grunted. "And what's this about a base on Sector Eight?"

"Loyalists. From an old cartel from before your time, Panther." Wolf still remembered the public torture Leon had put their leader through. It'd made Wolf's stomach turn, but it was the right move to make, with how quickly it crushed the morale of their opposition. It'd been a valuable lesson for Wolf. "They've been sabotaging ships in the area. Our mechanics are backed up, and our fleet is weakening."

"Is this a concern?"

Wolf waved a hand. "They're gnats. We swat them down."

"Right." Panther's eyes glanced down to his tablet again. "And, recruitment. You have reviewed the applications?"

"Yes."

"And?" Panther had a grin on his snout. "Is there anyone whose romantic notion of sailing the skies I should crush?"

Wolf sighed and rested his forehead in his hand. Recruitment policy had been the same ever since Panther had joined: Star Wolf took only the best. Any applicant who passed the cut went right to sims with their newest pilot. Panther had yet to crush anyone. "No. Only two who are promising. One is too young. The other..." He looked through his notes. Valen. Power-hungry, feisty fox. Cute. Persistent. But... "Not a good grunt. Tries too hard to impress, won't just shut up and follow orders. Too ambitious."

"Then we are, again, three men."

"Yeah." Wolf shrugged. "Better three good men than three babysitters and a child." Panther was frowning, Leon... never seemed to care about anything. 

This, Wolf thought, was the difference between him and McCloud. McCloud would take the extra money that had been budgeted for a new fighter and funnel twenty percent into a raise for Panther, who was a phenomenal soldier, one of the best living pilots, and--most importantly--always followed orders. But more than Wolf needed the spare change, he needed Panther's ego in check. No raise.

"We'll fly three men once more," Wolf said, meeting each of their eyes in turn. "Is that a problem?"

No dissent voiced. It was settled. Wolf nodded. "One week. Two missions. I'll see the both of you on Wednesday."

The two of them filed out of the little meeting room on the corner of Sargasso station. Wolf turned to towards the window to stare out at his empire, that black nothingness.

The reality was, Wolf didn't need another pilot. Sure, it'd make Star Wolf stronger, but did they need to be? Having the best merc squad was a cute distraction, a nice little trophy to put on the wall, but what sang around these parts was having the biggest army and the baddest reputation. Wolf needed more competent, educated people like Mira on his side to manage his clusterfuck of an empire, or an enforcer to dump Wolf's dirty work on so he didn't spend so much time trekking around the place barking at people and slugging them out when they forget a decimal point on their deposit.

When he left, Panther was waiting for him outside. "Hey, boss. You wanna hit the sims?"

Wolf's lips flattened to a line. "Can't," he said. "Gotta run to Corneria."

"Corneria?"

Wolf grunted in affirmation. "Business to handle. These things require a personal touch."

Panther had that look on his blocky snout that Wolf didn't like: that of a man who'd been turned away so many times in succession that he wondered why the hell he even bothered to ask anymore. Wolf hated that he'd seen that look frequently enough to know it.

"Alright, boss."

In Meteo, there was no morning. No sunrise. No workday. But on Corneria, there were all three.


	2. That Dumb Bitch Tanya

Three Devils could pass as a joint in Meteo... granted, not quite at that Sector Nine level. No neon signs here: ground level of the city (where all the rabble lived), down a back alley in a back alley, down ironclad cellar doors sealed with a punchcode... An oversized, scarred brute of an elephant stood outside the bar's underground entrance, ready to squash cop heads like a watermelon between those massive arms. Shirtless. His fat gut was a mess of scars, like a walking billboard advertising just how much punishment this son-of-a-bitch could take. Wolf met the fucker's eye, then winced as his right ear popped for the fifteenth goddamn time since landing planetside.

A reasonable man might be fearful of just strolling in like this. Had it been a setup, Wolf O'Donnell would end up in jail; thugs would collect his bounty and blow it on coke and hookers and who knew what else. But for Wolf, danger was an evil so familiar he almost found it comforting, like an old, childhood friend you know will always be there for you.

Inside, a striped hyena greeted him with two glasses of whiskey, one pushed Wolf's way. Stripes thought he was special and clever, but he had the same problem everyone else did. Taxes were too damn high. His joint was in the gutter, and raising prices was suicide. It was a familiar song and dance, one Wolf had played out countless times before. He knew every move on the board, and Stripes didn't even know where his queen was.

Wolf didn't have to explain that the reason Stripes couldn't compete was because the bar down the road already got its booze from the Cornerian branch of the Sargasso Group. They both knew it. Wolf had carved out a need for himself in this space; if you don't do business with Wolf, you don't do business at all. Wolf played the long game. Stripes knew he was being played, but he had no choice but to play right along, too.

A half-hour later, the deal was done. Wolf stopped as he left, eyes cocked towards the elephant. "What's your name?"

The behemoth of a man had a jagged pink scar over his left eye, which watched Wolf fearlessly. "Gorath," the brute said.

"You're overkill for this joint." Wolf came in close, fingered a few buttons on his comm, then passed his up against the elephant's to transmit his contact code. "Drop a line my way and I'll double your salary if my boys like you. Got it?"

Wolf could forgive the corpulence: elephants wore that weight well, and it made him an immovable tank. That eye watched him stoically, then its owner grunted in answer... and Wolf was on his way.

Stripes was one of many. There were always more.

One-by-one, he crossed them off. Stripes. Spots. No-stripes-no-spots, and Ringtail McFuckFace. Wolf was like a well-oiled machine, with a to-do list as an input and Wolf O'Donnell the Iron Fist of Meteo as the output. In, out, In, out.

* * *

Corneria City Skyway: an interweaving nest of pedestrian bridges arcing between a canopy of skyscrapers. Wolf only ever saw it at night, and only with an oversized coat clenched around his figure with the hood pulled up. Chill nipped at his fur. Restaurants had closed. Coffee shops had converted to bars. Now and then, flavor-of-the-month music thumped from below. These walkways and tall multi-use structures had been repaired quickly in the years following Andross's assault. You had to go well off the beaten path to see crumbling buildings and wreckage: back to the kind of neighborhoods that Wolf grew up in, because who gave a fuck about a scrappy little street rat having a place to sleep when you could charge twenty bucks a drink downtown? Especially in a time where everyone just wanted to get drunk off their ass and forget the sound of bombs and shrapnel raining down like hailstones.

There were still such simple things Wolf would never be able to experience, like strolling down this street in broad daylight without a care in the world, grabbing Fortuna fusion from a food truck, and ducking into Grounds Zero for one of those fancy lattes with an Arwing drawn on them. Your average dumbfuck trapped between an office job and a nagging wife had more freedom than him, there.

His good eye glanced up at the black nothing of the sky, where light pollution obliterated any trace of light save the twinkling from an occasional passing satellite. Meteo was up there. Sargasso was up there. His people were up there, and they needed him just the same way the people down here needed McCloud.

Waxing sentimental was easier here than there, where every buzz of his comm needed immediate attention. Now, there was a day's travel between him and the rest of his empire, so they'd just have to make do. It was like a vacation to a damn prison where he had to skulk around like a cockroach, but at least he didn't have a swarm of gnats buzzing around his nose. He might never set foot in any of those fancy restaurants, but still, here where Wolf was most reviled and unwanted--it was where he had his most freedom.

It was where he could remember what life was like before that accursed Fox shot him out of the sky.

* * *

"I'm on Corneria," Wolf said. Falco's projection was bleary-eyed, still trying to process getting called by Wolf twice in such rapid succession.

"Okay," Falco said. "Two questions. One, why are you on Corneria? And two, why are you calling me again?"

"Business," Wolf said. "And I'll give you three guesses, but only three, so make 'em good." The bed underneath him was too soft, and the covers were too rough. Every time he came down here, it was to a different prison-cell of a studio, so no one ever caught on. "Why'd you pick up?"

"Iunno, because I thought it might be important? Gee, boo on me for not expecting a friendly chat from Wolf O'Donnell at three in the morning."

"Everything I do is important," he said. "Here's an important question: what do normal people talk about in these friendly chats?"

"'scuse me?"

"You heard me," Wolf said. "I catch my goons chatting up their comms all the time. Never can figure out why."

"I don't know, Wolf." Falco was visibly annoyed, and his voice was all biting sarcasm. "Murder and blasters and G-Diffusers."

"Ouch, birdie. Sounds like your tailfeathers are gettin' tangled. Are you gonna hang up on me?"

Falco sighed. "You're a fuckin' trip, you know that?"

"You don't know what normal people talk about," Wolf said. "'cause you're a fuckin' trip, too."

"I didn't know you moonlighted as a goddamn therapist."

"Sarcasm to deflect," Wolf said. "I'm an expert in that one."

"Whatever," Falco said. But he wasn't frowning anymore; instead, he seemed to be fighting a grin... or whatever the bird equivalent was. "Fox would kill me if he knew we were talking, you know. Is that why you're calling?"

"Close, but--actually, nah, nowhere fucking close. That's strike one."

Falco rolled his eyes. He decapitated a beer bottle and brought it up to his lips for a sip. "Sports. Beer. Girls. Whatever the fuck that dumb bitch Tanya said at the office." At Wolf's confused squint, he went on. "That's what normal people talk about."

"Don't like sports. Don't care about beer. Don't like girls. Don't work a desk and don't give a shit about Tanya."

"Right, right. Why am I not surprised." Falco sighed. "Figures a fuckface like you could never get laid."

"Never said I don't like sex," Wolf said. He forgot that most Cornerians still didn't know, somehow. "Just don't like girls."

Falco made a face that he quickly hid away behind another swig of beer. "Oh. So, you're hitting on me."

"Strike two," Wolf said. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'd fuck you if you wanted. But I'm sure you don't." He savored the uncomfortable look on Falco's beak. "It'd just be so much work, you know? I'd have to seduce you, convince you fucking one dude don't make you gay, and for what? Just so I could tell Fox I fucked his best friend? If I wanted to fuck with him, I'd just show up at his door in my underwear."

Falco clicked his tongue. He almost looked insulted. "Lazy-ass wolf."

"Not lazy," Wolf said, leering. "Just not sure you're worth it."

Falco closed his eyes and elected not to take the bait. "This is what normal people talk about on comms, maybe. Sex. Fucking."

"Probably," Wolf said.

"Y'know, it's kinda funny," Falco said. "I always figured Fox was the gay one, but it's you."

Wolf squinted. "What, catch him sucking dick on the weekends?"

"Nah, I just--no, no, hold on a second, I get it," Falco said, leaning forward. "You're calling me to get dirt on Fox. I'll give you his fucking number, just call him yourself. Grow a pair."

"Fox and I don't have anything to say to each other," Wolf said. "Best if I stay off his radar altogether. So, nice try, but you're wrong. And that's your third strike, so it looks like our little chat is over."

"Gee, I'm so thankful you graced me with your presence. Next time why don't you consider shoving--"

Wolf cut the line off, at that, and took a moment to lie down on his back. Out came his comm, and he scrolled down a list of names. Yeah, he needed to shove something, alright. He needed to get laid, and he was willing to pay for it. But the sag in his eye grew with each passing second, and was he really willing to risk someone calling the CDF on his ass once they realized who he was?

Months. It'd been months. And it'd be at least one day more.

Time to go jerk it in the shower, then sleep through the day, then travel during the night, and he'd be all home, sweet home, just in time to drag his ass into the Wolfen and blow up some dissidents.

Maybe he'd get laid on Thursday.

* * *

"...I got drunk and let a guy suck my dick once," Falco said.

Wolf leaned in. The baseball-sized blaster burn on his obliques didn't like that very much, and it coaxed out a wince. "Why'd you tell me that?"

Falco sat up straight, defensively. Wolf found it amusing that all the tasteless sex jokes in the world couldn't make the bird as uncomfortable as one genuine question about why he'd chosen to open up, for once. Falco was at home as usual, which Wolf mostly knew because he'd occasionally point the camera the wrong way and flash guilty, errant socks lying neglected on the floor. Wolf was perched in his cockpit, halfway to Sector Five. "Fuck if I know," Falco muttered.

"Because you can't tell anyone else, right? You know I'm not gonna spill your secrets, and no one will believe me if I do..." Wolf flashed his teeth. "Wanna give me your bank account numbers while you're at it, just for safekeeping?"

Falco glared at him. "I'm not offering, in case you're wondering."

"And I wouldn't accept," Wolf said. "I don't like sucking dick."

"And I don't like butt-stuff."

"Then we ain't fucking. There, we got all the sexual tension ironed out real fast, didn't we?" Wolf paused. "Unless you're into frotting, in which case, we got a real problem."

"You're a freak," Falco said.

"And you keep picking up."

Falco shrugged, irritated. "Yeah, I'd totally rather listen to some prissy bitch whine about how the grocery store is out of flank steak."

"Try fucking men," Wolf said. "They whine less. Anyway, where were we? You were gonna tell me why you thought Fox was gay."

"And you were gonna send a harem of ten eager bunny sluts to my doorstep."

"If that's what it takes."

Falco shook his head. "Are you gonna try to fuck him? Don't you hate him?"

Wolf shrugged. That was a complicated question. But Wolf's motivations weren't so grand: just an idle curiosity on a work trip where he didn't have anything better to do. "Fucked plenty of people I hate. You should try it. It's hot."

"Call him," Falco said. "Tell him yourself."

"I said I wanna fuck him, not talk to him. Sheesh, don't jump to conclusions." By now, the ponderous forms of Sector Five's little cluster of stations had ambled into view. "I got five minutes. I'll send you to bed with three eager whores tonight if you spill."

"You're serious." Falco rubbed at his forehead with a hand. "You really think I can't just hire a prostitute if I wanted one?"

"Yeah, but I could hire you ten. At the same time. You'd drown in pussy." Wolf leered. "...how's that work, anyway, with the beak? Can you even eat girls out, or do you just stick the whole thing in?"

Falco was trying his hardest not to laugh. "No fucking--hhg, no fucking prostitutes, okay? I'll tell you, just so you'll shut up." Falco rubbed his forehead. "Look, there was this bitch... let's call her Tanya. Had a total thing for Fox, wouldn't take no for an answer. So she made up some shit, said she saw Fox sucking Bill's dick in the flight sims. But I know that's a lie."

"I've sucked dick in weirder places."

"Didn't you just say you didn't like--you know, whatever, I'm sure you have, Faggot-In-Chief. But--listen, she was crazy, she just wanted Fox for herself," Falco said. "And besides, Bill never set foot in the sims."

Wolf's good eye fixated on the looming uncomfortable mass of Sector Five's central station; it grew closer with every passing second. Time was short. All this talking about sucking dick was nice foreplay... or, a nice distraction from the reality of how many people he'd have to kill today on that station. Maybe he could get away with just five or six: all errant smugglers who thought they could gyp him. Wolf wished he _could_ just suck a damn dick and not have to pull the trigger so many times, but the people around him were so consistently disappointing that they inevitably ended up under Wolf's gun rather than his maw.

Wolf stretched out his legs. "So, this Bill fellow..."

"Yeah? You remember him?"

"Never heard of him," Wolf said. "You know, I'm running short on time. I really do like it when I can play nice, but relationships like this, like you and I have? They take a lot of time, a lot of investment. And when I don't got the time to play nice, I gotta play naughty."

Falco's eyes were narrow as slits. "The fuck you goin' on about?"

"Relax, relax. I ain't gonna kidnap his daughter, or nothing. I'll just plant a bomb in his ship, corner him somewhere, tell him some dumb bitch Tanya told me--"

"Fucking hell, man," Falco said. "You aren't serious."

"What, you think I'm gonna run to the tabloids if you squeal? Nah, little bird. I just wanna know, for me. Because if Fox is a fag, then the big dipshit in the sky sure has it out for me, 'cause that's a real fuckin' funny joke." Wolf flashed a morbid, humorless grin right at Falco's projection. Wolf fingered his blaster, strapped to his side. "You think we coulda been boyfriends if I grew up a rich little fuck like him and we went to that cute academy together?"

Falco was fighting a grin, which confused Wolf until the bird spoke. "Sarcasm to deflect," he said.

Wolf snapped his jaws. By instinct, he'd tugged his blaster from his waist and had it pointed at Falco's projection. "Bite me, bird."

"He's gay," Falco said. Didn't look scared, just tired. "Don't fuck with Bill, man." Falco's voice was a low mumble. "And I know for a fact. He sucked _my_ dick, alright? Just once. He was the guy."

Wolf studied the bird's image. Falco's eyes were downcast, and Wolf sheathed his blaster. "Well? How was it?"

"Too drunk to remember," Falco said. "He was all apologetic about it, too. Real embarrassed. Mighta let him do it again if he wasn't. Always thought things would get weird."

Now, Wolf was all up close and personal with the looming black mass of the Sector Five main station; the docking bay opened before his ship, and he slowly guided himself until his Wolfen jolted to a stop in the bay. "Don't worry," Wolf said. "I'll find out what you were missing and report back in lurid detail."

Falco's response was a solitary middle finger leveled right at Wolf's face before the feed cut off.

He'd still pick up next time. Like clockwork. Everything, like clockwork.

* * *

Wake. Eat. Work. Shit. Sleep. Wake. Eat. Work. 'Sleep' but get woken up by the sound of blaster shots down the hall.

Nothing changed. Eli was still a moron. Mira was still a genius. Panther still creamed his ass (5-1 in sims, ouch). Leon was still a creep. Falco still picked up--God knew why, at this point. Probably because being bitter and irritated was preferable to being bored and soulless.

He fucked Chris the Bunny last weekend. It was fine. Not bad, just fine. No time to knot, just pump and pump and squeeze near the base 'til Wolf popped, then kick the bitch out and tell him to come back next month. The sex was good, but mediocre. Dull. Good wasn’t good enough, these days. He could stack up fifteen bare asses on his bed any night of the week for his claim, but that still wouldn't be good enough. It’d just be work.

Andrew was building forces. Too bad he was an incompetent moron. The Exonerated Noble Heir to Lord Andross the Great's Glorious Empire had money and fanatical followers out the ass, but he was just another horse in the bar on Sector Nine, an adversary unworthy of the respect a drawn gun would signify. A cute pet to keep in the corner and poke at when he got too cocky, and a demon to hold over his own people's head to keep them in line.

The rest of his opposition was a ragtag band of silly dissidents: petty fools who understood nothing about the economics of crime and needed a boot to the chin to teach it to them. There were no more rival gangs left, really: only the criminal equivalent of whinging little brats not taking "no" for an answer when Daddy won't buy them a Katina Krunch at the supermarket.

Wolf had won. Why wasn't he happy?

"Are you happy?" he asked Falco, on another trip back to Sector Nine that had him questioning how Mira would take it if he just blew the whole damn thing up.

Falco looked at him like he was a complete moron. The bird was munching on a bag of those gross cheese-flavored gummy-worms that must have been a bird thing. "What does--" Smack, smack. "\--that even mean?"

"Fuck if I know," Wolf said. "I'm just bored." Smack, smack. "Hey, do you wanna know why I keep calling you?"

Smack. "Enlighten me."

"You're the only one in my contacts whose ass I don't own."

"Well look at you, drowning in booty. How does that work, with _not_ having a beak?"

"It all stinks," Wolf said. "The only people I respect out here, they're already working for me."

He thought about that throughout the rest of the week. Why would Wolf be happy when he was king? Wolf was at his best claiming the throne, not perching atop it: that was for wastrels who needed people bowing and calling them Sir to feel important. He'd crushed everything in his path, and there were no new mountains to climb, no new challengers to smack down. He'd peaked. From here on, he'd just get old and fat.

Wolf had won. That's why he wasn't happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I encourage and appreciate comments and kudos, as well as individual messages and conversations with people. Do not be afraid to send me a message! You guys motivate me to keep writing!


	3. Size Queens Anonymous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weekly updates? Surprise, motherfuckers. I'm impatient.

"We had a deal," Wolf said. His finger ran along the underside of Stripes's chin. "I want to know why you thought your end of it was optional."

Stripes had been stripped down to nothing. Thick, corded rope kept him tied to a sturdy chair that had been bolted into the ground. This was Wolf's interrogation room. You didn't want to be in Wolf's interrogation room.

They say that in a fair society, everyone deserves a trial by an impartial jury of his peers. In Wolf's courtroom here on Corneria, the accused was bound and gagged in a pitch-black room. No one would come to help Stripes out. It was messy, but Wolf didn't have a choice; dealing with criminals necessitated speaking their language.

Wolf stared him in the eye. "You know, a broken femur takes a good month to heal, these days. You know what's even worse than a broken femur?" Wolf leaned in until he was right in front of the hyena's face. That was the expression that Wolf looked for, right there: sheer, defiant terror, all raised brows and tense eyelids and panicked, full-body squirms... 

Wolf grinned, flashing those teeth. "Two of 'em. How does that sound?"

A muffled yell strained through the gag. The Wolf O'Donnell from six years ago would be disappointed at how much pleasure this brought him now.

Wolf's boots clacked against the floor as he circled the guy. "The thing is, though, I've been in this game for a long time. I've gotten real bored of just breaking bones and slugging faces. I wanna have fun with it, you know?

The hyena had settled down by now, his expression nothing but a burning glare. Wolf put a little finger through the metal loop down on the base of his left ear. "Hey, hey. Tell me, what would happen if I just... tugged on this real hard, huh? You think that'd be fun?"

Stripes jerked against the ropes.

"Yeah, you're right. I shouldn't use your fashion sense against you." Wolf gripped at the hyena's gag when he came back around to his front side. "I'm gonna pull this nasty thing off, yeah? And what you're gonna do, is--you're gonna beg me, you're gonna say... Lord O'Donnell, _please_ break both of my legs. And then I'm gonna do it, and then we're both gonna walk home happy. It won't be fun for me, but hey, at least you'll be getting off easy, right?"

Wolf's fangs bared in a sadistic grin, and he slowly lowered that gag.

Stripes spat in his face. "FUCK you."

Wolf wiped the nasty glob off with the back of his hand, but his grin hadn't wavered. Back up over that potty-mouth the gag went. "I was hoping you'd do that. Remember, I gave you your chance."

Wolf stood straight up. "Big G," he called. "Come on out."

The building rattled underneath the elephant's ponderous footsteps. Gorath's scarred eyes settled down on his old boss, whose snout tilted in vague recognition.

The elephant had served him well enough so far, but this was his real test: a confrontation between him and his old boss. If there were any time Gorath would turn, it'd be now.

"Yeah," Wolf said. "Snatched him right out from under your nose. That's what happens when you don't show your employees enough respect. Gorath tells me you really mistreated him: had him take the fall for crimes, shit-talked him right to his face, never let him really be one of the boys..." Wolf came up behind Stripes and settled a hand on each of his shoulders. "But don't worry, I'll give you a second chance to brown-nose him proper."

He let the peculiar phrasing sink in while he motioned Gorath over. A little gesture from Wolf had the elephant turning around, like a space-ship lining up to park. Gorath's trousers hit the ground a moment later. Underwear, too. Each of the elephant's boulderous ass-cheeks was larger than Stripes's whole head. It was about this time that Stripes flooded the room with muffled screams.

Wolf grabbed the back of his head and shoved it right between the twin mountains St. Elephant. He smothered the hyena's nose and mouth right where he didn't want them, then slowly tugged down the gag. The elephant's cheeks were firm and strong and so large that Stripes's head almost disappeared between them.

"Oh, come on, it's not that bad," Wolf said, grinding his palm between those ears. "I'm almost jealous. Kiss it." Wolf tugged out his blaster and pointed it squarely at the back of Stripes's head. "Now."

He waited, patiently until Stripes gave in. There was something almost poetic about this. Stripes might have crossed Wolf, but it was his grievances against Gorath that gave Wolf the scalpel to carve him. Years of neglect and abuse and degradation came back to bite him. Five times Stripes's lips smacked, each accented with a pathetic whimper. "Good," Wolf said. "Now, use your tongue. C'mon, don't make me show you how it's done."

The hyena's ears were glued to his skull and nothing but whines came from his mouth. He tried tugging his head away, but to no avail: he gave in, and this humiliation went on for several blissful minutes. Gorath's only acknowledgement was a low grunt. Wolf's hand kept him shoved in there until air became scarce, and only at that point did he tug the wretch's head back.

Stripes was dead silent. He had learned not to speak out of turn, lest his tongue be used for something he didn't want.

The value of cruel and unusual punishments was something he'd learned from Leon years ago. A broken leg didn't mean too much, because it healed. Broken bones could easily slot into the ruthless calculus of criminality: "Do I risk going behind Wolf's back?" is an easy question to answer if all you have to fear is sticks and stones and red-hot brands. What you had to do was subject someone to something so uniquely horrendous that for the rest of their short life, every time someone brought up Wolf O'Donnell around them, they'd bristle. And they'd never, ever spill what had happened. That was how you spoke the language of fear, and fear was the language of crime.

Wolf's cowardice in his early days, his reluctance to embrace the brutality requisite for his career, had cost him dearly. Lives. Money. Influence. Wolf pitied Stripes in this moment, but he swallowed that down and did what he knew he had to. His suffering was unfortunate, but Wolf would use it well.

"Well?" Wolf said. "Are you gonna thank him for letting you do that, or what?"

"Th..." Stripes glared over at Wolf, and if looks could kill, this hyena might be a competent criminal. "T-thanks."

Wolf let out a breath through his nose. He walked around in front of the elephant and dropped his gaze low, scoping out the trunk between Gorath's legs. "Do whatever you want to him. I'll watch. Oh, and break his legs, too."

An indignant yell cut off mid-formation when Big G tugged the gag back up. Gorath lifted a foot, placed it right on Stripes's thigh, and...

Wolf turned away. This part was so boring, really. Leon would have to teach the oaf some creativity.

* * *

Paying to smuggle an elephant to Corneria seriously wounded his wallet, but it'd been worth every penny. In the aftermath, Wolf had tugged Gorath back to his studio. Three pills down the elephant's hatch, a tug onto the bed, and a short while later he came to the surprising conclusion that Gorath's dick was actually too big for him.

He'd always been a shameless size queen who'd probably spend all damn weekend trying to shove a monster like this up his ass, yet here he was staring down the barrel of the biggest cock he'd ever seen in his life, and he just... didn't care enough to bother. All he could think about was how he should've made Gorath smack around Stripes with that truncheon for good measure, maybe put out one of his eyes to match Wolf's. His bare ass thumped down on Gorath's thigh with a frustrated growl. 

Why couldn't he get excited about anything anymore? 

"You ain't the first," Gorath said.

Wolf met his eyes. "It ain't that," he mumbled. "I'll make it fit one day. Just not in the mood."

Gorath's trunk curled and he shrugged. Wolf wasn't enough of an expert in elephant body language to discern how he felt, but he could imagine it ought to be confused whiplash. "Whatever you want, Boss."

Wolf needed two hands for the girth of it. He squeezed both near the base and just... swung it around, feeling the absurd weight of it. Long and thick. Balls like oranges, too. Big G was a walking indecent exposure citation--maybe that was why he'd been forced into crime in the first place. Wolf looked up at him. "Do you actually like doing this? 'cause you don't have to be here if you don't wanna. I don't want to piss you off making you do things you don't like. You're too valuable for that."

Gorath was impossible to read, and his voice was a craggy, featureless rumble. "Try again any time you want."

"Right," Wolf said. "You're the screwdriver, and I'm the one turning it. That sound right?"

The elephant nodded.

"You did good today. I'll hook you up with Mira. I think you two could get along. You don't say much, but you listen, and that's what matters." His gaze roamed the elephant's body. Not pretty. More gut than muscle. More fat than chubby, but that elephant physique had him with no rolls, just powerful, round curves. Still, fucker was ugly; his only redeeming quality was his sheer size... which it turned out, was just fine for Wolf, who'd never really had much space for pretty in his life, anyway. "I like you," Wolf said. "You like taking dick?"

Gorath shook his head. He had strong, powerful arms that hardened when he flexed; thick pecs, even if they sagged; and a chain-link tattoo made of black ink wrapping its way around his right biceps. "Flex those guns," Wolf said, leaning forward so he could get his mouth on them.

Fifteen minutes of onesided muscle worship later, Gorath was out the door and Wolf was alone again. He hadn't gotten off, but that would have just detracted from the meditative process of plotting out an intricate cartographer's map of Gorath's left biceps with his tongue. That'd be fifteen minutes he'd be hard-pressed to spare if he were up there in space, and not here down in Corneria.

Wolf mused on how much power you robbed someone of just by giving your consent. Making out with a tank of an elephant's asshole was life-changing traumatic shit for some folks. For Wolf, it was foreplay, no different than grinding his tongue against the apex of that chain-link tattoo.

But he was only musing on that (and only mouthing at the elephant's arm) to distract himself from something far more troublesome, which was that breaking someone’s leg shouldn’t be more fun than the prospect of absolute anal annihilation. It was necessary, he told himself. It had to be done. It was a business decision. But there was no business decision behind his enjoying it, was there? That tingle in his gut when he saw that look of pure terror wouldn't lend him any business acumen. Wolf still remembered the first time he'd had to break a whimpering, helpless man's arm, how the unsettling crunch and the disgusting crack had turned his stomach and ruined his mood for the next week. Now, he did it with a smile.

Wolf couldn't dwell on that. He blocked it out.

Had he really won, if this was what winning had reduced him to? He needed a new project, a new mountain, a new anything--anything to grasp onto as a foothold from the slow-but-steady slide down the slippery slope into contented degeneracy that working this life forced on him.

He thought back on the one thing he'd been avoiding this whole time. The one person. The one fox. McCloud loomed like a lonely peak in the distance, unscalable and unknowable; that'd been the one climb he'd never finished, and thinking back to his time with Andross, probably the only climb he'd never wanted to finish. But now, he had nothing else. There was no choice but to approach.

So, what was he going to do--challenge the fox to a duel? No. Putting himself on Fox's radar for combat was a death sentence; Wolf had always been correct on that call, ever since that bounty reduced him to a criminal sulking in the unmentionable parts of space. He had to treat Fox McCloud like any of his other projects: use all the information he had and approach from the angle with the strongest foothold. If he got Fox on his side, if he made Fox into his next Gorath...

That, Wolf mused, was true victory. The Iron Fist of Meteo needed the Golden Boy of Corneria under his boot.

Falco's perpetually-annoyed beak sprouted up from his comm a few minutes later. More annoyed than usual, because Wolf hadn't even bothered to put on clothes. 

"You're naked."   
  
"Just hooked up with an elephant whose dick has its own gravitational field, so getting out of bed's a little bit much right now." Not technically a lie.  
  
Falco squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. "That's a mental image I didn't need."

"Yeah, but there's something I need," Wolf countered. "Something to aid with my recovery. A favor, if you will."

"Shoot. Long as you promise to never call me naked again." Falco's eyes surveyed him. "Also, Fox's is bigger."

"Funny joke. Now, speaking of Fox..."

* * *

Wolf couldn't sleep. Ambush him in a hovercar. Surprise him at a banquet. Crash a charity event. Masquerade as a student and humiliate him in flight sims in front of the students he's supposed to be teaching. Confront him on a tech demo and call him out on the bullshit marketing jargon those dumb companies he got sponsorships from touted and--

Wolf was dry-humping his bed. For the first time in who-the-fuck's-even-counting years, he was excited. There were now two names in his contacts whose asses he didn't own, and he had to get that back down to one. But how?

Wolf was thinking like a criminal. How did normal people handle things like this? Fuck being normal. Wolf wasn't normal. And maybe, just maybe, Fox wasn't either. Maybe he should just do something crazy. Live a little.

Where was the one place he'd known Fox to show fear? What was his opening?

 _I know your secret_ , his fingers texted to Fox's private number while his brain just watched. _Maybe we can help each other out._

The next message was a potato-quality picture of that fat pole right between his legs (making sure he didn't catch the slight paunch on his midsection), aimed right for Fox McCloud. And he digitally signed the message, too, so there'd be no mistaking its origin. That was Wolf O'Donnell typing and that was Wolf O'Donnell's big dick. One flash of that thing and every gay boy under the sun came running, wanting a piece.

Fox wasn't just any gay boy. Wolf was crazy.

_Fox McCloud is typing..._

_Fox McCloud is typing..._

_Fox McCloud is typing..._

_Fox McCloud is typing..._

_Fuck_

_Fox McCloud is typing..._

_Fox McCloud is typing..._

Seeing that message, seeing Fox composing... that made Wolf sit up, and it woke something inside him. Years of avoidance and it came down to this. Wolf interrupted him. _I'm alone_ , he wrote. _No strings. Don't even have to talk._ He attached his location.

_Fox McCloud is typing..._

_Fox McCloud is typing..._

The next message made him groan. It wasn't a message: it was a fucking nude. Fox's bare ass on display, halfway between slender and muscular, tail pulled up and tugged to the side.

_Get your ass over here._

_How do I know you aren't playing me?_

Wolf turned on video from his comm. He showed everything. Showed the room, showed himself. Wolf's body did all of these things, while his head was still stuck five minutes in the past, plotting about flight sims and ambushes and hovercars, unable to process a damn thing. He was alone. The place was empty, nothing here but Wolf's lonely desperation and misguided ambitions. Dimly, Fox's voice crackled through the line:

"No catch?"

"No catch," Wolf repeated. "Just sex." He thumped his dick against his abdomen. "Do you really think I could fake this?"

The line went dead. Just a few seconds later:

_I'll be right over._

Wolf breathed for the first time since his first message. What had he done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to everyone who's read, commented, left kudos, or otherwise reached out so far. Again, special thanks to Skye for his incredible wisdom!
> 
> I realized that AO3 doesn't actually have PMs, oops. You can check my profile for contacts if you want to get in touch. I'm @Orvayn on Twitter, @Illindrel on Telegram, and similar names on various sites. Feel free to poke at me!


	4. Booty Call

Wolf left the door unlocked, and Fox let himself in.

It was the first time Wolf saw him in the flesh, a larger-than-life figure now reduced to a flesh-and-blood fox like any other. Average height. Toned build. Questionable fashion sense (always with those damn green pants and that red scarf). Handsome, but not a model. Pretty in that foxy way, but not beautiful. Wolf had scored plenty of hotter bodies, but never a prize as unfathomable.

Wolf's straining jockstrap was the only garment he wore, and he sat there spread-eagled on the bed, watching Fox lazily. Pup was wary. He should be. Fox scanned the room. He turned back and looked down the corridor. Fur standing on-end, he poked his head into the bathroom to see if goons were waiting there to shank his ass... even tinkered with his comm and scanned around for funny signals. Nothing, nowhere.

Fox looked at him. Their eyes locked, and Wolf half-expected him to tug out a blaster and shoot out his one remaining eye. But those emerald eyes broke his gaze and scanned over his body with hunger. McCloud's mouth opened like he was trying to speak, but it shut again without a sound. A mixture of thinly-veiled animosity, intense curiosity, and clear, unmistakable arousal danced on his face. The tent between his legs was impossible to hide, and at that point, Wolf had won.

They didn't have to talk. Speaking risked shattering the illusion.

Fox stripped down, carefully; his eyes were locked on Wolf like he might produce a blaster from behind the pillow, so Fox fumbled with his belt and tried to remove it without looking. Adorable. First the jacket came off, then the shirt, then the trousers, then the underwear, and damn was that sheath impressive, especially when it started lipsticking out at him. Wolf stared. Fox climbed atop the bed, breath hitching in his throat as he drank in Wolf's figure. 

Wolf used to savor familiarizing himself with a new body and its unique reactions, used to cherish the bristling excitement in each touch... He thought that feeling died five years ago, but it screamed back at him in full force. Neither of them could look away. Wolf was eighteen years old again, with an incorrigible libido that had him chasing down all the wrong company.

Fox had lifted a nervous hand into the air, and it lowered with nervous hesitation to touch Wolf. Fingers spread right over one of those meaty pecs. Sparks jolted all over his figure and all up in his head, that same funny, scintillating feeling like when he had a little too much weed. He flexed the muscle, and Fox's fingers gripped his flesh, greedy claws threatening to dig in. No affection, just greed and lust and _want_. 

Fuck it. Wolf wrapped an arm around Fox and tugged him in.

They were on each other in seconds, snapping together like magnets. Body heat and breaths mingled. Fox's slender muzzle pushed into the base of his neck and sucked in a gulp of scent--Fox wanted him, wanted _Wolf_. Wolf's jaws went right for his neck, and a deep growl vibrated down as his teeth dug in--not too hard, easy. Fox whined: his back arched, his tail lifted high, and the curve of his ass rose into the air, presenting itself for claiming.

Pup wanted to get fucked, huh? Fox's hands were all over his body, exploring and drinking and feasting before settling down to grasp at the forbidden fruit between Wolf's legs, stretching out his jock well beyond its limits. Fox dripped pre on Wolf's chest, especially when he grabbed a handful of ass and squeezed. In answer, a vulpine hand clenched at the band of his jock, desperately trying to wrench it down.

Pup wanted it _bad_.

Wolf roared out. Everything was an impossible, dreamlike blur. He and Fox rolled over. Wolf was dizzy. Orange fingers shakily offered Wolf's bottle of lube off the nightstand. Three pumps, and...

A strained whine cut through the air when he pushed in: too much, too fast. But despite that, Fox lowered himself down against the bed and pushed his ass back like he was greedy for more. That was ten years of longing. Ten years of restraint, all thrown out at once. Wolf snarled and sank in deeper.

An ass was an ass. Except this one. It squeezed like a vice on his dick like Chris the Bunny, but it felt impossibly different nonetheless. A thick arm clutched around Fox's frame, and when he nipped on one of those ears, Fox let out an adorable, squeaky groan.

Nah, this didn't feel like weed. Wolf had a body high like no drug could give him, and he'd tried 'em all at least once. He thrust in deep as he could to feel Fox squirm and hear more beautiful, strained music spill from his lips. Gritting his teeth, he rocked his hips and thrust like he was a damn virgin again. No careful lining himself up against Fox's prostate, no slow building of the pace, just fucking like an absolute animal--and Fox, underneath, loved every second of it.

They'd barely even been in the same room for five minutes and they'd skipped straight to unprotected anal. Had this always been one text message away? 

No words, and no need for them: crescendoing breaths and grunts and percussive slaps of thighs-on-ass said it all, until, panting, Wolf asked a single question:

"Tie?"

Surprised green eyes looked up at him from over Fox's shoulder. "Y-yeah."

Wolf plunged to the root. His knot ballooned against Fox's prostate, and he thrust in doggish little humps that massaged Fox's sensitive gland. Fox tightened up: his ring clenched down on Wolf's base, and Wolf smelled cum. Fox had popped off without a touch, and the insistent clenching sent him over the edge, too. The world became a blur of white.

Breathless. Both of them. A symphony of gasps and hassles played in the air, and only as it began to die out did reality fade back in.

A silent eternity rolled by until Wolf was able to wrench his dick free. Out hissed the byproducts of his climax, and by instinct, Fox clenched up and rose to his feet.

Emerald eyes met his for a beat, and Fox scampered away like a panicked skink. The bathroom door swung shut behind him. For twenty long minutes, it stayed shut while the shower ran.

An apprehensive tingle ran down Wolf's spine, and he considered leaving. What had he done to earn this? 

* * *

Wolf had tugged back on his jock and sat on the bed's edge when Fox finally emerged and slowly dressed, stealing glances now and then. Once he'd slipped on the mask of his clothes, he stood tense for a minute before carefully taking a seat beside Wolf, two feet left between them that seemed impassible without the spark of lust.

Nothing. They said nothing.

Was Fox like him, sitting around and wanting to say something but not finding the right words? Or was he trying to extricate himself as quickly as possible? If so, why had he gone for the tie? Why had he lingered? They sat apart on the bed as if Fox were afraid of touching him--as if he hadn't had Wolf's fat knot buried in his ass. The scent of sex in the air grew muted by the growing odorless stench of regret.

Wolf realized he was afraid: afraid that if he spoke, Fox could see the criminal behind him, the man who used murder and torture as cold business tools... and that emotion was so foreign that he had no concept of how to process it. He couldn't remember the last time he'd shared a moment like this with someone who didn't see Wolf's bad reputation as an asset.

Fox stood and headed towards the door, ears wavering almost apologetically. He paused right at the exit, frowning while he looked Wolf over.

Wolf cleared his throat. "Listen, uhh..."

And those ears fell in an instant: that was fear on Fox's face, right there, the same damn expression he'd seen on Stripes's snout when Wolf had threatened to break his legs. Wolf's ears fell in turn, but he had to say something.

"Is this gonna be one of those... never-talk-about-it-again things? Or is it more of a... call me next time?" 

Shit, he sounded dumb. Fox looked at him like he sounded dumb. Fox glanced awkwardly towards the door. The younger male's mouth opened, then closed. Opened, then closed. The door opened, then closed, and Fox was gone.

Wolf sat on the edge of the bed and hugged his knees up against his chest. Had he made a mistake? 

The answer didn't matter. The question did. He savored the thrill of caring enough to ask it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks for the views, kudos, and comments so far! As always, feel free to reach out to me if you want to chat.


	5. Rimjob Rhapsody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man this chapter has evolved so much since I started editing it, and it's probably one of my personal favorites. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it!

Monday he crushed Panther 5-0 in sims. The old cat asked him who lit a fire under his tail, and Wolf said he didn't want to know. Panther probably thought it was Gorath, who'd sat in on a Star Wolf meeting for the first time that day; he'd never fly the skies, but his name was now on Wolf's shortlist for who mattered around Sargasso. Mira was down on Katina monitoring the ongoing development of the colonial rebellion, so he had to introduce Gorath to the old weasel over holo.

Tuesday he sent Gorath to Sector Nine to do his dirty work. The elephant was proving to be a reliable tool, and maybe Wolf could delegate some of his personal duties to the fat fuck. The more distance Wolf could put between himself and that darkness, the better.

Wednesday he spent flying with Star Wolf, raiding Andrew's ships. It was a delicate balance: blow up enough that Andrew got the message and stopped interfering with his operations, but not so much that the monkey would abandon his little outpost in Sector Eight.

Thursday he sat on Gorath's cock. It fucking hurt. It hurt so good. Wolf roared out a loud "Ffffffuck, yeah!" while he took it nearly to the root, to the wrenching limits of his intestinal capacity and strained internal organs. His own dick, hard as a rock, shot almost to the damn ceiling on its second burst when he came. Thick pachyderm hide took the rough clawing from Wolf's clutching fingers without even bleeding, and Wolf saw stars when his prostate reached the pinnacle of compression. Not even the smallest part of Wolf's brain could fathom looking down at this behemoth of a creature and not craving this.

It still wasn't nearly as good as feeling that pretty, scared fox moan into his neck.

Friday Wolf--

"Where the fuck have you been?" Falco’s voice blared over his comm. 

"Shit, Mom, sorry I didn't call you and let you know I'm okay."

The call had jolted Wolf from his power-nap, and he took it sitting at the glass desk in his chambers. His bedroom was just the desk, his bed, and a bedside table stuffed with sex toys and capped with an alarm clock. His room's sole decorations were the fancy hand-grip on the blaster under his pillow and the window gazing out into the abyss.

"I mean it's fuckin' weird, you ask me some shit about Fox then you just vanish." Falco was munching on those disgusting cheese gummies again. "Anyway, Fox has had a real spring in his step this week, too. Makes a guy wonder."

"We talked.”

"Talked?"

"Talked. You wanna know more, how 'bout you ask him, since he's your best friend?"

Falco glared at him, munched on a gummy, and shrugged. "I mean, it ain't my business."

"You see those new thrusters at the SD telecon?"

"Tested 'em last week. They're shit, don't believe anything Space Dynamics tells you."

And at some point during each of those days, Wolf inevitably pulled up those messages on his comm. The pictures had long since self-destructed, but the text was still there. Sometimes, he'd stare down at those words and try to figure out what to write next. Sometimes, he'd just look at them and reminisce and jerk it in the shower, but not one of those sad, pathetic shower-jerks that felt as satisfying as taking a piss, more like one of those good, long shower-jerks that made your toes curl.

 _I needed that_. The message had surprised him half an hour after Fox left his little Cornerian apartment. Wolf had showered and dressed with ten minutes to spare before leaving to catch his interplanetary shuttle, and he spent all ten pacing while squinting at his comm. Maybe he'd write back something deep and philosophical about the nature of rivalry and the inevitability of feeling that isolating loneliness at the top, or maybe he'd just make a witty crack about how Fox sounded like such a dumb fucking slut with Wolf's knot crammed up his ass.

In the end, he'd gone for honest simplicity:

_Me too._

It was a game of chicken. Who would write back first? Who would break the silence? It wasn't until that Saturday that, while Wolf squinted down at those words on his comm, the little floating message popped up:

_Fox McCloud is typing..._

_Fox McCloud is typing..._

_Are we going to talk about it?_

* * *

“Boss?”

Panther’s voice cut through the roar of bar-talk around them. Star Wolf congregated in a booth at Sargasso Spirits on Saturday nights, sipping down liquid bile between idle chatter about work. A pink neon sign advertising the rotgut-of-the-month blared in his periphery, and thin cushions did little to make the metal bench under his ass more comfortable. Panther had just asked him about the situation on Katina, but Wolf didn’t care that much about Katina right now, not when Fox McCloud was awaiting his response.

“They’ve got another shipment coming next week we’re going to hit,” Wolf said. “Mira’s deals are going smooth.”

“And Eli?”

“Eli’s a fucking moron.” Wolf thought back that call a few weeks back. “But he keeps us in the know. We’ll hear if something is up. Katina should be ours within a couple of months, long as no funny business happens.”

Panther leaned in and bored him to tears with some inane nonsense about planetary defense. Wolf tried to pay attention, but his mind was elsewhere. He had a secret project that no one else knew—not Panther, not Leon, not Mira, not anyone, and Wolf was infinitely more interested in where this experiment would lead him than where the brewing conflict on Katina would go. While Panther talked, Wolf typed.

_What is there to talk about?_

_I haven't been able to get it out of my head. I was mad at myself for a while, but honestly, I've had a shitty week and I really just want it again._

_You greedy slut._

_Are you complaining?_

_Fuck no. I'll gladly be your dirty fucking secret._

_TMI, but reading that got me SO hard._

_Good. Nothing's TMI, give me ALL the details._

_Can we do it again tonight?_

"What do you think?"

Wolf looked up with a straining tent hidden underneath the table and a pointed frown that made Panther ease back in his seat. "I think we should talk about this on Monday," Wolf said. "Sorry, cat, I've got some urgent business to attend to." He finished off the rest of his drink in one go, stood up, pushed past Leon (ignoring the curious tilt of Panther’s snout), and made his way back up to his room. Two big rocks floated in the black abyss exhibited by his window, and Wolf sat at his bare desk again.

 _I'm not on Corneria._ He weighed just how silly it was to consider making an interplanetary jaunt for sex. _Can be tomorrow._

_Busy tomorrow. But I can cancel plans. Will you make it worth it?_

_I'm disappointed you have any doubts._

Wolf pored over his calendar to see what he could fudge around. The fire died down for a few minutes while they worked out a time they could meet. Wolf tried to imagine what Fox was thinking, but they were wired so different that he had no fucking idea. Fox's face-to-face reticence complicated things, but his eagerness in messages was refreshing.

Once he had the date marked in his calendar, a message from Fox was waiting for him. _Can I confess something?_

_Shoot._

_I've had a thing for you ever since Katina. Always thought you were hot. You were the first guy to ever really make me sweat._

Wolf grit his teeth at the casual mention of the battle that'd sent him spiraling down and crashing into the desert sands. _Adorable._ Fucking prick.

Wolf read the conversation over and over and over and over. He spent a few moments poring over Fox McCloud’s file and scheming, but he got nowhere. That night they shared was like an out of body experience or a lucid dream, too absurd to process.

Just where was this experiment heading next, and what precisely could he milk out of McCloud now that he’d closed the distance between them?

Fox wanted him. And that was powerful, powerful leverage.

* * *

They flirted and swapped pictures up until the moment Fox's boots struck the dusty hardwood in Wolf's rental-du-jour. They'd exchanged not a single word about flying, ships, Andross, or anything else. Just sex.

Fox entered with a wary stance and a straining tent between his legs. He stripped down while watching Wolf, but this time those eyes were greedy, not scared. A big wet spot stained his boxer-briefs, which quickly fell to the ground in his haste to get his hands on Wolf. He was panting before he even touched the bed.

How long had Fox let this lust fester? In all Wolf's years, he had met only a handful of bottoms this eager. Fox pressed against him like invisible force had drawn them together. Wolf's hands roamed over his slender back and down towards his rear while Fox’s greedy hands felt up his arms. Wolf made a game of seeing how long he could draw things out, and the answer was until he squeezed one cheek in each hand and spread them wide. Pup humped into the air and whined; two big canine dicks ground together and drooled against one another, and Fox straddled him so he could sit down on that fat tool. Wolf's hands denied him with a sharp tug on his tail.

Fox whined loud enough to sting his ears. The carnal sound made his dick fire off a shot of pre that almost hit him in the chin. Fuck.

"You're such a... greedy little slut for me, aren't you?" It was hard to sound smug and condescending when his own voice was hoarse with lust. They were both panting. Wolf hadn't been this horny in decades.

Fox didn't have to say yes. His facial expression said it for him. The way he tugged against Wolf's grip and tried to line that dick up again said it for him.

Wolf snarled out--he couldn't hold back any longer. He rolled him over, spun him around, shoved his head down onto the pillow, and skewered him.

He loved the way his huge red cock split open Fox's pretty pink hole. He loved the way his back arched and his head threw back to yowl out in pleasure-pain. He loved the way he slammed his hips back like a week was too damn long to wait for a second round. He loved how that formerly-pretty-pink hole squirmed and struggled to stay closed when he pulled back and watched his pre drip from the crater he had reduced it to, and he loved the way that gape chased after his dick like it couldn't stand being empty. An ear-splitting whine pierced the air. Wolf grinned and watched him squirm in need--and he granted that wish by burying himself balls-deep with a single thrust, knot and all.

Wolf braced against the bed. The world became an ecstatic blur, and he roared out his pleasure. Fox's voice sang with him, and he shivered despite the burning heat searing every inch of his body.

* * *

In the aftermath, Fox's back settled against Wolf's belly, but this time, his eyes didn't just close in bewildered contentment. This time, Fox kept glancing back at the canine behind him. Something was different now. This wasn't just a one-off mistake--it was a pattern.

Fox's mouth struggled to remember how to speak, and the first thing Fox McCloud in the flesh said to Wolf, aside from a muttered acquiescence to anal knotting, was… 

"Did you... did you kill him?"

James? Wolf flexed his cock in Fox's guts, prompting a satisfying squirm from beneath. He rolled over on his side, and Fox yelped as Wolf's knot tugged him around. "Do you really wanna open Pandora's box when I’m eight inches deep in your ass?"

"Maybe not. But I have to know."

Wolf took in a deep breath. He’d played out this conversation in his head before, but the whole knotting business threw off his script. "No. That was Pigma and Andross, and I hate their guts now. I had nothin' against your old man."

"...and, Andrew. You still with him, or--"

"No." Wolf was acutely aware that he was an awful person, and the more questions he let Fox ask, the sooner this would all end. "You know what you're doing, right? You're looking for an excuse to stop fucking me."

"Maybe I am."

"Have you tried accepting that you've got it bad for this criminal's dick?"

Fox said nothing.

"Because if you haven’t got the message yet, maybe I need to hammer it in a few more times." Wolf thrust his dick inside Fox, knot and all. "You ever came twice from one knotting before?"

Fox laughed nervously. "...no, I..."

Wolf rolled over on top of him, still rooted in his ass. Wolf sawed his knot against Fox's prostate, melting his frustrated squeak into a groan. "Easy, now."

"Wolf, I just--I just came, I can't--"

Wolf folded an ear into his mouth and nipped it with his teeth, and Fox shuddered. "Shh. Trust me."

"Okay." A beat passed. "I'll trust you."

This was a delicate maneuver that took a delicate touch, like flying through Meteo's dense inner core. Wolf kept a close eye on Fox: pulse, breathing, tension in the neck, arch of the tail...

Wolf O'Donnell was going to be the best fuck Fox McCloud ever had. That was not negotiable.

And under Wolf's careful tutelage, Fox relaxed. He surrendered, tied to Wolf. Those vulpine eyes squeezed shut, and Wolf's tongue explored the base of his fuzzy neck while lazy groans crescendoed into high-pitched whines. Fox's ring clenched on his dick again: an almost boyish noise caught in his throat right at its apex, croaking into an airy gasp, and for the second time in ten minutes, McCloud painted the sheets beneath him.

Wolf would remember that sound for the rest of his life.

* * *

"What are we doing?"

Fox had sat up and was leaning over, talking to Wolf but not looking at him. He stunk of post-coital regret. Now that Fox didn't have a boner anymore, they were worlds apart. A knot of disappointment tangled in Wolf's chest.

“You aren't even gonna thank me for making you cum twice?"

Fox’s ears fell. He glanced towards Wolf just to jerk away like he'd been caught staring at a stranger in public. "You just did it so you could brag about it."

"I did it 'cause you make such cute sounds when you cum.”

Fox's tail curled harder over his front side, hiding his sheath from view.

Wolf sighed. “You know you can just leave, right? If you’re just gonna sit there like I shit in your oatmeal, you might as well.”

“I don’t want to leave.” Fox still wouldn’t look at him, and it was pissing Wolf off. “It’s just... this isn’t exactly a situation I ever expected to be in. It’s hard. But, it's...”

"Yeah, it's easy when you want my cock, but once you blow your load, you can't even look at me. The second you cum, it’s James this, Andrew that, Pigma that..."

Fox snapped his eyes over to Wolf, defiantly. "What's your problem?"

Wolf closed his eye and took in a deep breath. This was the part where Lord O'Donnell would pull out a blaster and make it clear that no one ever talked to him like that. This was the part where he'd tell Fox that every time they met, he ought to gag the bitch at the door so he could never ask questions, just nod yes or no for consent. This was the part where Wolf told Fox he needed to shut the fuck up or he was going to be front-page news on the Lylat Herald tomorrow.

But Wolf didn't want to be Lord O'Donnell now. He chose his words carefully. "One minute you're a total goddamn whore for me, and the next you're cowering over there on the other side of the bed like I took your lunch money. I mean, at least you're talking to me now, but _shit_. You give me no appreciation for all the pipe I lay, pup."

"Don't call me pup."

"Stop acting like one. And while you're at it, stop acting like I've got a blaster in your face."

"Yeah? And how am I supposed to act, huh?" Fox looked cute when he was frustrated, hands balled into fists. “I’d be ruined if word got out about this.”

“Act like a dumb fucking whore who met up with Wolf O’Donnell to get his ass wrecked. Embrace it. Live a little.”

“I’m not a dumb whore.”

“And I wouldn't be hopping planetside to fuck you if you were. Yeah, I get it, you’re Mister Perfect, but now’s your one chance to pretend you aren’t.” Wolf frowned. “Look, this is weird. Couldn't you at least like... let me rub your ears, or something?”

Fox’s brow had furrowed thoughtfully, but when Wolf asked that last question, he jerked. “I’m sorry?”

Wolf sighed and patted the space beside him. “Lay back down and let me rub your fuckin' ears."

"...you can't be serious." 

“I just knotted your ass, pup. If you can’t even let me touch you when I’m done, maybe you should reconsider lifting your tail in the first place.”

Fox huffed. His ears were half-down, and Wolf wished Fox were looking at him so he could tell what he was thinking. After a minute, Fox sighed and thumped back down on his back. His ears kept falling until they were glued to his skull. Shit, that was cute. “Fine.”

Wolf's hand took a careful approach, like he was trying not to spook a feral cat. "Should I let you sniff my fingers before I pet you?"

Fox glared daggers at him. That glare slowly dissipated in the ensuing moments when Wolf took an ear between his thumb and forefinger. He started with the thin membrane at its tip and slowly worked his way down to the thicker base, feeling soft skin on one side and fuzz on the other. Fox's eyes drifted shut, and Wolf pressed his palm between those ears to gently caress. He and Fox been all biting and humping and icy stares from across the room until now, but this? It was affection, and Wolf wasn't really sure how to process that he liked it, let alone that he'd fought to earn it.  
  
A strange warmth buzzed in his chest.

He kept going until his fingers were tired, then until his palm was tired, then until his arm was tired, and all he could do was let it rest down on the bed with his fingertips brushing against Fox’s head. Fox sat up again, but his tail stayed relaxed behind his back this time. "This was nice. Really. But I should get going. I'm sorry for..." He shook his head, then looked to Wolf for help.

“You're fine.” Wolf felt no tension in any part of his body. “It was nice. Really.”

Fox's hand brushed against his chest. It meandered down to rub over his belly (Wolf made an active effort to suck in the ten pounds he'd put on). Fox's touch was slow and hesitant, but it felt monumental, like the critical test flight before committing to a new ship mod.

When Fox pulled away, Wolf turned over on his side. Just as he hadn't felt that aroused in decades, he hadn't felt this relaxed, either. The soft music of Fox pulling back on his clothes lulled him to sleep.

When he woke, a bear of a message ambushed him. _Sorry I'm so shy. I'm normally good at talking since it's half my job now anyway. But you're right, the moment I'm in the same room as you, I can't help myself. And when it's over, I feel like there's so many things we need to talk about that I'm not even sure where to start, so I start getting defensive. And you obviously know what you're doing, but I don't. It's not that I don't want you to touch me, I'm just not sure what your endgame is, and it feels like I can't ask you for advice because you'd probably just make fun of me for it anyway. I'm honestly still trying to get over the fact that our first hook-up wasn't you just trying to blackmail me, because we've never been within ten miles without trying to kill each other, and it's weird finding out we've just been eyeing each other across the stars this whole time. I know we don't really get along too well and it probably seems like I hate you, but I don't want to stop seeing you. I guess it wouldn't be so fun if it were easy?_

What the fuck. He didn't even know it was possible to write a text message that long. His eye glazed over and he caught himself skimming.

_Fox McCloud is typing..._

_Am I overthinking this?_

_Yes._

_Okay. I'm sorry. Can you help me?_

Wolf read that last bit five times and still struggled to imagine Fox writing it. _Will fucking your ass again help?_

_I'm serious._

Wolf frowned and scrolled back up to Fox’s PhD thesis of a message. _I don't know what I'm doing either. I'm just a horny bastard who wants to fuck someone he actually respects, for once._

It was a lie. He knew it was a lie, but what was the truth?

* * *

The truth was ugly.

Gorath stood to his side. This was a lesson the elephant needed, but not one Wolf had the stomach to give. He watched Leon, watched his coldness, because Wolf's eye couldn't linger on Stripes.

Leon had the room set up like a professional pornographer's studio, with three-point lighting and multiple camera angles trained on the scene of a single chair. Stripes sat there bound by rope, tears streaming down his cheeks after soaking into the fur around his eyes. Leon had inserted a single, thin needle into the side of his skull with pinpoint precision. A trickle of blood dripped from where it had bored into his skull. The chameleon's finger turned a knob, and hoarse screams echoed in the room. The cameras captured every sound and every thrash.

Stripes hadn't learned his lesson. Torture was an unreliable method to extract data, but it spoke the language of fear exceptionally well.

Stoic creature that he was, Gorath didn't say a word, but even he flinched in sympathetic rage. Wolf didn't want to imagine the pain. Leon had told him the specifics once, about the nerve in the side of the skull that made people sing and dance, and Wolf vowed never to sink that low.

Wolf took refuge in the memory of Fox's ears, the way skin and fur twitched nervously under his touch. He remembered the embarrassing, sinful noises spilling from Fox's lips when Wolf chewed on an ear and milked that second climax out of him. And he remembered his secret, those dirty messages on his comm.

 _Maybe I'm the same,_ Fox had replied after half an hour. _Everyone else has a big hero-worship complex for me, or thinks I'm their gateway to fame and power, or threatens to run to the press and spill all my secrets. No one knows I'm gay--it's the one thing I have, the one part of my personal life that doesn't end up in the tabloids. I know it's dumb, but I have to have something, you know? And I'm not really sure what you want with me, but I get hard every time you send me a message. It's uncanny. And scary, that you of all people have this effect on me._

It was around this point, while Wolf watched Leon crank up the voltage even higher, that he realized his whole experiment with Fox was a catastrophic failure. He’d hoped to end up in control, but he wasn’t.

_I'm literally leaking down my thigh while I'm writing this to you, hah. Ahh, that's embarrassing, and I've got to teach in just ten minutes..._

_Let me know when you finish teaching_ , Wolf had written back, really not liking the image of a horny Fox with no outlet. _I want you to tell me all about how hard I get you, while I lay back and squeeze one off. You can join me if you want..._

The truth was ugly. Wolf was falling for Fox, because Fox was everything he could never have. Fox was everything good with the world, and Wolf was just a bad boy with a fat dick who knew how to fuck.

Wolf imagined what Fox might think if he saw that needle jutting out of Stripes's skull, or if he saw the video Leon planned to lord over the hyena's buddies... and he banished those thoughts from his mind.

No. Wolf would listen. He would hear the gurgling screams, watch the violent thrashing, and endure the hoarse pleas for mercy. He deserved to listen, and it wasn't fair to stain the memory of Fox McCloud with that taint. Stripes screamed until his throat bled and dripped crimson down his lips. Wolf bit back nausea and told himself it had to be done. This was the way his world worked, and if Wolf couldn't watch, he couldn't rule.

Fox McCloud could never understand.

So, _you good for next weekend?_

* * *

The second Fox's pants were down, Wolf's snout pushed between his cheeks.

"Wo--ohh, fuck."

Wolf had shoved him down onto the bed and tugged down his pants just enough to expose his prize. Wolf pressed the cold pad of his nose right against Fox's entrance, breathed out a soft puff of air, then slowly dragged his tongue from the base of Fox's crack all the way to the top--but when he came to that wrinkled pink hole, he swerved to the side and skipped past it, spurring a needy whimper from the canine beneath him.

He pressed the broad flat of his tongue against Fox's snug hole, then slowly cranked up the pressure until he was roughly grinding his tongue in. Fox squirmed, moaned, and grasped the sheets. Wolf tugged those pants and underwear the rest of the way down so that Fox could spread his legs properly, and while he was at it, stripped off his own jock to free his aching dick.

Wolf's cock stood iron-hard and dripping between his legs while his tongue swirled around the outer edge of Fox's entrance, slowly spiraling in towards the center until Wolf's lips mashed up against it, hard. He mouthed at it, smacking his lips each time they pulled apart. One kiss became ten, until Wolf pulled back to breathe, spread, and stare. Fox clenched a few times to show off, then looked expectantly over his shoulder, panting.

Wolf grinned. "You like that, huh?"

Fox's snout and chest were resting against the bed, freeing his hands to grip hold of Wolf by the ears and tug him in. Wolf grabbed those hips to jerk them back and smother himself in ass. A hungry growl vibrated into McCloud's rump, and Wolf didn't pull back until drool dripped down his chin and his lungs begged for air.

Wolf had eaten ass plenty of times before. He'd worshipped ass like this only a handful of times.

He ate out Fox until his tongue ached, then he mouthed and kissed until his jaw ached, and by then, neither of them could wait a second longer. Wolf lined himself up, and this time he didn't even have to push in: Fox shoved his hips back and sat down on Wolf's dick like it were a dildo suction-cupped to the shower wall.

Wolf wondered just how many times Fox had squeezed off in the interim, anticipating this very moment.

* * *

"Number three," Wolf said. He was on his side, watching Fox emerge from the bathroom, naked. "Guess this makes it official: we're fuck-buddies now."

"Do I get a special badge for that?" The bed jostled under Fox's weight as he settled down.

Wolf savored the happy grin on Fox's face. It was so pretty, nothing like the tough-guy scowls and smirks criminal meatheads tended to wear. "When are you gonna invite me over to your place? Bet you got a big, fancy bed there for us to break in.”

"I'm not ready for that yet."

"Yet? What, we gotta advance to full-on boyfriends for that?" Fox sputtered in alarm, so Wolf waved a hand and continued. “Relax, pup. Neither of us are boyfriend material.”

"That's something we can agree on, yeah. Boyfriends are..."

"For normal people. So, relax. It's just sex." Wolf studied Fox. How fitting that his life's lonely ray of sunshine was the one man he'd tried and failed to kill for years. A whim struck him: "But I do kinda wanna kiss you. Can I do that?"

Fox met his eyes, but held them only for a second. "...no."

That stung. Wolf struggled to keep his ears upright. "Right." He settled down on his back and laced his fingers together. Beside him, Fox did the same, and they eased into what was by now an only slightly-uncomfortable post-fuck silence. The room was silent save for the quiet purr of the air conditioning system. Fox’s head turned slightly towards him, ears a-flicker like he wanted Wolf’s hand between them again.

But Wolf didn't want to touch Fox right now. "I just made out with your asshole for fifteen minutes straight," he said. "I'd think kissing you on the lips isn't too much to ask."

Fox tiredly looked over at him. "Maybe the two are related."

"I got mouthwash in the bathroom."

Fox was split between surprise and amusement. "We're not boyfriends, Wolf."

Wolf's jaw clenched shut.

"You can kiss me any time you want. You know where."

Fox was being a teasing brat, which would normally rile Wolf up, but now it just annoyed him. And it annoyed him that it annoyed him. Wolf's good eye squeezed shut and he sighed.

The funniest part of all of this was Fox's assumption that Wolf had any idea what he was doing. Yeah, Wolf probably had a body count in the hundreds. Yeah, he knew how to fuck. No, it didn't help him one bit.

Eye closed, he tried to sulk, but he only managed two minutes before a tickle on his ears jerked him out of his solace. His eye snapped back open just long enough for him to process that Fox's fingers were brushing up against his ears. Fox took a little while to get comfortable with touching him, after which the younger canine's hand just settled down on Wolf's head, motionless.

"How much... do you want to talk?"

Wolf's eye stayed closed while he listened. "Talk?"

Fox was quiet for a little while. "You haven't told me very much about yourself. I've told you a good bit, I think. I just think... maybe we should get to know each other a little better, if we're going to keep doing this?"

Wolf shrugged, still irate. He thought of Stripes in that chair. "Do we have to? It's just sex."

"Just sex," Fox repeated, like if they said it three times between the two of them, it'd come true. Fox rolled over on his side, eyes watching Wolf intensely. "I'm okay with that, I think."

"You don't have to stay here to entertain me," Wolf said. "But if you wanna stick around, we can go for round two in a couple minutes."

Fox nodded. "I'd like that. Round two. ...maybe three."

Wolf rolled over on his side to face his old rival. "Yeah. In the meantime... you said you were fine with touching?"

"Yeah. It just... takes some getting used to."

"Can I try something?"

"Sure."

"Okay." An arm draped around Fox's side and back. Wolf met Fox's eyes, which had widened in alarm. "Is this okay?” Only after getting a hesitant nod in return did Wolf reel the smaller canine in, and Fox carefully tucked his snout in under Wolf's chin. A toned vulpine arm wrapped around him, and Wolf felt the tickle of Fox's nose drinking in his scent.

They held each other. This was... different. Wolf's fingers gently stroked Fox's back, and for a few minutes, the only sounds in the room were their breaths. It was a precarious moment that Wolf wished would stretch on for eternity so he never had to be alone with anyone like Stripes ever again. He'd take this over breaking another femur or watching Leon's madness any day of the week. 

Wolf tried to remember the last time he’d pressed up against someone like this and found he couldn’t. He gave Fox a squeeze like he never wanted to let go. That warmth buzzing in his chest was back again, but now it roared.

Fox spoke, quiet and gentle: "This feels good."

Wolf mouthed at one of Fox’s eartips, tentatively. It flicked away from him in surprise, but came back in for more. Wolf didn’t push his luck, giving a quick little nip before pulling back (not as committal as when they’d fucked, when he'd folded it over and bitten down). Fox's orange-red fur swayed in the subtle wind of Wolf's breathing. “You look tired."

"I'm relaxed." The arm around Wolf squeezed his back, fingers spreading to trace over his scapula.

It hurt how much Wolf wanted to kiss him. "You're pretty. And you smell good." 

"I smell like you."

"Yeah, you do." He squeezed Fox again. "I really like this. ...really.”

Fox's head drew back away from his chest just enough that he could lock eyes with Wolf. Meaty lupine fingers stroked gingerly at the base of an ear. Fox was looking right at him. Their muzzles were so close. His body language was saying yes. Screaming it. Wolf craned his muzzle in until they were an inch away, and Fox didn't pull back. Fox wanted it. Their noses touched, cool pads pressing together with just enough force to depress them both. Wolf tilted his snout and Fox mirrored it. Wolf's lips spread and--

Fox turned his head to the side. His ears fell, and Wolf wondered if it was out of embarrassment or out of sympathy for the involuntary whine Wolf made.

“Sorry," Fox said.

"No, it's fine." It wasn't. He gave the pup's head a little tug against his chest again, where it settled down comfortably.

"It's not that... you aren't--it's not that I don't--it’s—“

Wolf didn't like the discomfort and frustration on Fox's snout. "Shush, pup. Just relax."

Fox settled in against him, and as the seconds rolled by, the tension in his shoulders unwound. A sleepy Fox McCloud turned his head to the side to brush his cheek against Wolf's thick chest. Wolf took an ear into his mouth and raked his teeth over it, savoring the shudder and breathy groan he induced. "Wolf?"

"Yeah?"

"I changed my mind. I like it when you call me that." 

Wolf wrapped both his arms around Fox and gave him a possessive squeeze. "Make up your mind, pup." He took out his frustration on Fox's ear, gnawing and gnawing and gnawing until Fox was moaning and pressing against him. Something warm and wet splattered against his abdomen, and its origin was no doubt the burgeoning erection between Fox's legs.

"I... might be ready for round two."

Wolf rolled Fox over and growled.

Part of him wondered why the fuck they hadn't done this sooner. The rest of him knew the answer.

Because one day, he'd say something--maybe a joke, maybe a truth--and he'd piss Fox off. Fox would come riding in his Arwing to Meteo with the CDF armada on his back, and it would all be over. If he got lucky things might go back normal, but they couldn’t really, could they? Because now Wolf knew what he was missing, and chances were he'd get spaced before he ever knew the subtle flavor notes of Fox McCloud's spit.

This could never last, but part of Wolf wished it could--the same part that lied through his teeth when he promised this was just sex. Maybe it was to Fox, but not to Wolf. He'd found it, the unclimbable mountain, and he hadn't a clue what to do with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to those who've offered comments, criticism, kudos, or just private feedback to me! As always, catch me on Twitter (@Orvayn) or Telegram (@Illindrel) if you want to chat.
> 
> Updates have been rapid lately, but the next two should come more slowly. Be patient!


	6. Powerbottom Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The astute might notice I've incremented the chapter count a few times. As I've edited the latter half of the story, I've added *a lot* to it. I hope you all enjoy! The final edited draft is in theory complete now, so I should be posting the rest of the story pretty quickly as I do my final touch-ups.

Morning came gently:no bright flash of artificial sunlight, no klaxons blaring in alarm, no knocks sounding at the door or blaster fire booming down the hall.Just a slow fade-in of consciousness while Wolf’s fingers stroked at Fox’s—

Fox’s stomach?

His fingers froze mid-caress, then carefully resumed.Fox was still asleep.Or was he?Lylat’s Golden Boy shifted beside him, picked up his head, and then settled back down.Wolf’s belly parked against the small of his back, and his sheath lay pressed between those cheeks, but it didn’t feel right to make a move while Fox was teetering on the edge of wakefulness.Much as Wolf wanted to drink in this moment, he felt obliged to check in with the pretty fox resting against him, especially after he checked the time on his comm.Damn—he was late. He’d hoped to be off the planet by dawn.“Hey.” His claws scratched at Fox’s stomach.

Fox squirmed away from him and sat up.“Ah, shit… Wolf?”

“It’s seven in the morning.”

Fox rubbed his knuckles against his eyes. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“You’re telling me.”The rest of last night was a blur to him. They’d tried for a round two, but Fox had been too sore. Wolf had offered to let him top, but he didn’t seem too enthused about it, and it felt like just sitting on his dick might come off as too aggressive. They casually fooled around until the sexual energy dissipated, and… here they were. Had Wolf nodded off first, or had they shifted into this position overnight? “Do you have somewhere you need to be?”

He was checking his comm, forehead resting in his palm. “I’ve got a call in half an hour. Barely enough time to shower and dry.” He sat up straight, ears alert. “Shit.”

Wolf sat up, too. “A call at seven-thirty in the morning on a Sunday?”

“They’re on Katina. It’s gonna suck for someone. I’ve got to—”

Wolf rested a palm on his shoulder. He really didn’t like seeing him so distressed. “Stop your panicking, pup.You can take it here, if it ain’t too long. I’ll stay out of your way.”

Sleepy eyes regarded him.Fox’s fur was a frazzled mess where he slept on it.Adorable.“Wolf. This is _weird.”_

“Weird part was you showing up in this place, pup. I’m just being polite.”

Fox’s hand rested on top of his, still planted on an orange-red shoulder. _You can trust me_ , Wolf willed. “Okay. The call might run an hour or so. Do you want to stay, or…”

Wolf should have been gone a couple hours ago. So was it really that big of a dealto hold out for just a little while longer?

And Fox was right: something was so absurd about all this. Was he really waking up beside Fox McCloud after a night of post-fuck cuddling… and persuading Corneria’s Golden Boy to spend the morning casually at his place?Granted, his ‘place’ was a rental studio… but this was decidedly different than wordless sex.

Wolf liked it.“I’ll take my shower when the call starts.” He pulled his hand away and stretched. “Hey. You want breakfast?”

Fox laughed. Took him a while to realize Wolf was serious.“Are you—are you going to _cook_?”

“No, I’m gonna stroll into the diner down the street and order fucking takeout—yes, _numbnuts_ , I’ll cook.”

“How domestic of you.”

Wolf sucked his teeth. “I said cook you _something_ , not something _good_. I ain’t a goddamn chef.”

Now it was Fox’s turn to stretch, and when his arm reached out, it settled down between Wolf’s ears. That was it—the second time now that Fox had touched him unprompted. Wolf must have made a face, because Fox grinned.His words still had a sleepy, honest rasp to them. “You’re much cuter than I thought you’d be.”

“Am I much hotter?”

“That, too.” Fox stood up off the bed, and Wolf’s good eye lazily followed his ass while he retreated towards the shower.Fox paused before entering the bathroom.“But mostly, cuter.”

“You’re just saying that to piss me off.”

“It works, doesn’t it?”

Wolf growled, and Fox chuckled his way into the shower.

* * *

Wolf ran his shower long and hot, and he relaxed in the drier booth until his fur was no longer damp to the touch. When he finished, Fox (now clothed) was seated at the apartment’s lone desk talking into his holo.Wolf dressed and went to the kitchen.

Okay, yeah. This was fucking weird.

The ‘kitchen’ was one gas burner and a small collection of cabinets nestled in an alcove near the apartment’s entrance.Tiny-ass expensive-ass Corneria apartments always had these tiny-ass annoying-ass kitchens. There was about one foot of counter space, some small appliances in the cabinet, and a little mini-fridge stuffed to the brim with garbage.

Through his years of skirting around under the law, Wolf had learned to survive off almost anything. Ordering food was next to impossible while he had a bounty on his head, so he always had to scramble and make do.He’d usually just whip together a goopy mess of powdered eggs and chomp it down in two minutes (or just stuff himself with nutrient paste and meal substitutes), but Fox would probably find that unpalatable. He surveyed his hoard and made a plan.

A small dining table folded out from one of the walls near the bed, and Wolf hauled a pair of stools out from the closet and set them up across from one another.

“I’m not sure I’d really recommend that course of action, General,” Fox was saying. “The Orion-9 cannons really aren’t that powerful a deterrent against modern fighters. If the pirates have any idea what they’re doing, they’ll—”

Wolf turned his ears away from Fox and tried not to listen.Pirates? Yeah, Fox was right about the tech, of course--Pup knew his shit--but this whole setup, with Wolf and Fox? It wasn’t about trying to glean internal information, and he didn’t want to give Fox any doubt about that.

Wolf finished setting the table, left Fox alone, and returned to the kitchen.Today’s breakfast was oatmeal, made with a little can of oat milk he’d found in the pantry. In went a packet of instant strawberries and some ground almonds for texture.

He finished preparations just as Fox finished his call. Before things could get weird, Wolf asked: “Tea or coffee?”

Fox’s nose sniffed at the air while he stretched.“What kind of tea?”

He read them all out. Fox chose an Earl Gray. He brought two bowls of oatmeal, a hot kettle, and the little tin of tea to the table. If Fox minded the teabags, he didn’t complain. A pair of them dropped into a mug Fox filled with steaming water a second later.His usual green suit stretched out around the subtle curves of muscle on his figure; the accompanying jacket, boots, and scarf were folded into neat squares on the desk. Fox wasn’t as bulky as him, but he wasn’t quite a twink, either.

Wolf sat across from him. If someone had described this scene to him two months ago, he would have told them to fuck off and stop huffing exhaust fumes.Now, it served as a reminder that, no matter how larger-than-life he and Fox were, they still had to go through the same banal bullshit everyone else did:still had to sleep, still had to get up earlier than they wanted, still had to shower and dress, and still had to eat breakfast. And, of course, still wanted to fuck.

They were exceptional individuals. But they were still normal people. What did normal people talk about over breakfast?

Wolf sipped on water. The silence was comfortable,but last night, Fox had wanted to talk, and now was as good a time as any. “What’s your schedule like today?”

“Nothing too interesting.” Fox dunked his teabags into the mug, watching the growing color of his drink rather than Wolf.“I’m teaching the vice president’s son tonight. He’s thirteen. Wants to get into the academy.”

“That’s the most Fox McCloud thing I’ve ever heard.”

Fox looked at him with mild annoyance. “You’re right.”

“You like teaching?.”

“I’m not sure if I like it, but it’s satisfying.”

“Meaning?”

“It’s way different than flying.” Fox removed the teabag and stirred sugar substitute into his tea.Fox sounded so composed when he talked about work, versus when he tried to talk to Wolf about their… arrangement. “I’m also not that good at it. Most of the stuff I think about while flying isn’t something I’d ever teach to a beginner. The basics are things I don’t think about anymore.”

“But it don’t matter how good you are at it. What matters is how good private lessons with Fox McCloud looks on a resume.”

Fox paused mid-stir to glance his way. “You aren’t wrong.” His narrow snout tipped into the cup to sample it. “I do better at the advanced classes, but even then, I don’t know. People have lofty expectations of what I can do for them.”

Wolf tried his oatmeal and found it needed another sprinkle of salt. Culinary freezing had come a long way; the strawberries tasted almost as good as the fresh ones he plucked from the greenhouses near Sargasso. “They think you’ll do the work for them.”

Fox one-arm shrugged. “Flying is a bunch of motor skills, and you just gotta put in the hours and grind. But people think training with me means they can slack.”

Wolf tried to imagine Fox leading a lecture. "You don't belong in a classroom, pup. What you're good at is getting people in 'em.People read stories 'bout you, then they start signing up at the Academy...”

“Not sure if that’s a good thing." Fox's was looking at him not as a sexual object, but as an acquaintance, as an equal. “Don’t get me wrong, I love flying. And I get that with the colonies, we’re gonna need pilots.But, I don’t know. It’s weird seeing war being so glorified.”

“People find ways to profit off anything.” Wolf grimaced. “Trust me, I should know.”

“Yeah.”Fox stirred his oatmeal and sampled a spoonful.“Not bad. I appreciate this, by the way.Unexpected, but nice.”

Was he trying to change the subject, away from hints at his criminal ties? “Don’t sweat it.”

They ate in silence for a while. At some point, he realized Fox was watching him. He looked up and was surprised to see Fox didn’t look away.

“Do you want to talk about last night?” Fox asked.“You seemed upset.”

Wolf hadn’t yet had time to process anything. “Not right now.” Wolf watched him carefully. “I like this, anyway.”

“Yeah, I don’t—I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about it, either. But this is nice.” Fox cradled his mug in his hands just underneath his chin. 

He could agree with that.He’d never been a fan of small-talk, but he wanted this to keep going. Since he wasn’t sure what to say, he seized on the obvious topic of conversation in Fox’s hands. “You like tea?”

Fox glanced at his mug, then back at him.“Yeah. This tea isn’t great, but it’s fine.”

“Always been a coffee person, myself. Got any recommendations for a newbie?”

“There’s this great tea shop in Skyway Central. It’s—it’s a shame that you… I mean, I’ve got like an hour free now.If you weren’t…” Fox cut himself off with a sip. 

Quiet though they may be, the words cut through the air like the scream of a plasma cannon. Wolf leaned back against his chair and sighed.

“You’d be fun to chat with over a cup of tea.I just—”

“We can’t,” Wolf said.“I know.”

They sat in awkward silence for a few long seconds.“I’m sorry.”

Wolf took a moment to answer. “It’s alright. I’m flattered. Really.”

“You aren’t—” Fox set down his mug.“For what it’s worth? You aren’t nearly as bad as I was expecting.”

Not nearly as bad—but not good, either. Wolf got really tired of hearing that every time he made a positive impression on anyone who wasn’t a criminal.He couldn’t imagine what it was like to have a normal person look at him and not feel fear and distrust. He couldn’t imagine what it was like to be Fox and be the subject of the whole damn System’s endless adoration. “I appreciate it, pup.”

They finished breakfast and cleaned up, but lingered in the kitchen. Fox’s arms rested awkwardly by his side like he didn’t know what to do with them, and that cute muzzle was trying so hard not to eyefuck him. Wolf got a hand between those ears and gave him a scratch; by now, Fox seemed almost comfortable with his touch.“I should get going soon,” Fox murmured.

“Figured.”

Fox gripped at his side and closed the distance between them. His smaller figure pressed up against Wolf’s larger one, and it was the first time they’d touched like this while clothed. His nose pushed down into the base of Wolf's neck and drank in his scent.

Wolf squeezed him tight, and his pants strained. The tension in his body melted away and he relaxed against the other canine, gently stroking him. “I like it when you do that.”

“You smell good.”

Wolf recognized his own words from last night.Fox spoke again, voice muffled into Wolf’s neck:“It’s funny. Always thought if we ever ended up in the same room, we’d end up fighting.But I’m—pretty comfortable around you, actually.”

“Here I was hoping to make your ass real uncomfortable.”

Fox responded with a grind against his leg. His hand stroked over the swells of muscle on Wolf’s arm.“You’re better at doing that than anyone I know.”

Pride welled in his chest, and evenif Fox was just trying to flatter him, it took active concentration to keep his tail from wagging. “Damn right I am.”

A questing hand skirted lower until it settled on Wolf’s ass and squeezed it. “And you have a really nice ass, too.”

Wolf had no reservations about grinding his leg back against that bulge.“Keep touching it and see what happens.”

Squeeze. “Yeah? What’ll happen?”

The shameless, breathy anticipation in that voice was impossible not to smirk at. He grabbed a handful of fox ass and deployed his trump card:chewing on an ear and lowering his voice to growl into it. “I’ll use your dick like a toy, McCloud. Pin you down and ride you ’til you’re begging to cum.”

“Fuck, yes. Please.” Straining green trousers rocked against his leg.“Literally any time you want. You don’t even have to ask.”

They were both nearly panting. Fox was so fucking submissive to him and he loved it, loved the contrast with the regal, confident pilot chatting with him over breakfast. Part of him knew that he could probably get him to miss that other morning appointment if he started barking orders—one of many ways he could absolutely ruin this boy’s life if he wanted to—but he ought to use his powers responsibly. “You know we’re just gonna end up fucking again if you don’t get out of here now, right?” He squeezed him and released his ear, then spoke more softly. “Hey.Was I too rough with you last night?”

The question didn’t seem to parse. “…too rough?”

“You said you were sore.”

“Oh.”Fox shook his head.Toned vulpine arms squeezed around Wolf’s midsection. “No, no. You’re just _really_ thick. It’s nuts. I can barely fit a hand around it.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

Fox cocked his head. “Will I?”

Wolf’s chin rested between those ears. “I’m in this for the long-haul, pup. If you ain’t still on my dick a year from now, I did something wrong.”

Fox broke their embrace, and his muzzle pulled back far too quickly, like he was afraid Wolf would try to kiss him again.Wolf frowned, but Fox was still looking at him.“What if our teams end up fighting again, Wolf? What will we do?”

What would they do?Wolf hadn’t considered it, and he hoped he never had to.He knew he wouldn’t have the guts to pull the trigger on Fox… but could his rival say the same thing?

“Let’s worry about that when it happens.”

Fox smiled, a pretty smile that was accented nicely by the straining tent between his legs.“I’m really looking forward to next time.”

He gave that bulge a squeeze.“Me too, you horny fucker.”

Fox’s tail swayed behind him. He slipped out the door and into the crisp morning air.

Wolf frowned after him.It’d been good—wonderful, really—but the longer he mused, the more it felt like a knife twisting in his chest. His prize dangled so close in front of his nose that he could see every fine detail of what he was missing, of what he could never have.And he wondered if maybe this had all been a tremendous mistake.

Wolf was Fox’s sexual experiment.Nothing more.The most bothersome part of it all was that it bothered Wolf in the first place.

* * *

Though the morning was overwhelmingly pleasant, it left Wolf in a sour mood—and not just because he was late for his shuttle. There was some risk involved in carting himself out in broad daylight, but he masked himself well and his transport was a discreet hovercar with tinted windows. While it led him out of the city proper, Wolf plugged away at his comm, handling business.

First, a call with Mira to catch up on the day’s goings. Then he began to check off items on his calendar:a call here to chew out a ferret who’d fucked up and lost them a transport, a call there to confirm some details of tomorrow’s incoming shipment…

But his mind kept wandering. Babysitting a bunch of inane dumbfucks who could barely even follow the orders that Wolf spelled out to them in obnoxious detail was so damn tiring. Wouldn’t it be so much nicer to be having tea with McCloud, right now? Fox could keep up with him. He was bright and—when he wasn’t horny—articulate. If Fox worked for him, Wolf wouldn’t have to spell out any details: he’d just tell Fox what needed to be done, and he could respect the pup would find some clever way to make it happen.

He willed himself to focus, but he couldn’t, and Wolf found himself scowling as he asked one of his henchmen to repeat the same goddamn thing for the fourth time over comms.

When the call closed, he brought up Fox’s contact information—and realized that he was powerless. What was he supposed to do, ask Fox for help getting the CDF off his back? Whine that thinking about Fox was distracting him from his crime management day job? Bitch that Fox liked fucking him too much and it was way too hot?Fox said he was busy anyway.

His comm dinged, and he checked his messages.

 _Can’t stop thinking about what you said, about your ass using me like a toy. That might be the hottest image ever._ A picture followed: it showed the seat of Fox’s green flight suit, tented obscenely with a wet splotch right where pre had leaked through. _I’m aching._

Horny fucking slut of a fox. Frustration flared, and he typed the first thing that came to mind. _Why are you so afraid to kiss me?_

He imagined Fox’s boner shriveling. _I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that upset you so much. Didn’t you say it was fine?_

_I cooked you breakfast. I held you all night. You said you were comfortable with me, but you can’t stand having your face anywhere near mine. What's the deal?_

_I am comfortable with you._

_Comfortable with how hard I get you._

_I thought you loved the sex?_

_I do. I wanted to fuck you again this morning so bad._

_So did I._

Wolf stared up at the frantic exchange of texts.Wasn’t this supposed to be just sex?

Fox started typing. _Look, I know what you’re getting at. I’m going to be totally honest with you, Wolf._ For a few minutes, Fox typed and erased, typed and erased. _The sex is great. I love it. I think about it way too often. I have a HUGE weakness for you. I always have, ever since Katina._

_Pup is typing…_

_I don't know how to deal with the rest of it. That I don’t hate you, that I kind of like you.That you’re sweet, that you cook me breakfast and ask me if you were too rough._

_Pup is typing…_

_The sex is great but now we're falling asleep in each other’s arms and you're asking if you can kiss me, and it's a little weird. We're not like that._

He imagined Fox saying those words aloud.

Kissing wasn't that big of a deal.One time he'd made out with an ugly hippo in a bar on Sector Nine who’d tasted so strongly of tobacco and booze that Wolf almost gagged, but he did it anyway just because he knew it'd freak out the homophobic fuckhead staring him down across the room. But if kissing wasn't that big of a deal, why was he so upset?

People were only upset when they had something to lose.

 _People kiss when they fuck, moron._ Wolf's fingers shook with anger. He read back the sentence he just wrote and balked. His fingers typed out an apology but he didn't send it--Lord O'Donnell didn't apologize. _You wanna go back to not talking? And not touching?_

_I’m not a moron, I just never imagined you'd try to kiss me. Not in a million years. Seriously, does that not seem weird to you? You know our history._

_So I'm just a fat dick that'll fuck you up the ass without squealing to the press, huh? Would you even be talking to me if I wasn't hung?_

_I'm sorry if I upset you, Wolf. But I won’t be pressured into doing something I’m not comfortable with._

Fox was right, of course. Of course he was fucking right. _So you’re not gonna answer my question, huh?_

_If you’re gonna act like this, maybe we should stop._

_No. I’m sorry.I didn’t mean it._ He deleted the message before he sent it.Apologizing would defeat the point, anyway—he _was_ upset, and Fox needed to know that.

Fox kept typing. _I’ve gotta jet, but we need to work this out before we meet again._

The biggest disappointment of all was that he knew he'd broken his spree of getting Fox hard every time the two exchanged messages. If all he was to Fox was a fat dick to sit on, then he sure wasn't doing his job very well, was he?

He scrolled back up to that picture. It made his pants tight. Even if he hadn’t paid it much attention yet, Fox had a nice dick—big, too. If this leaked, it’d be the scandal of the century. Wolf ought to be so fucking smug that he got a horny, leaky dick pic out of him. He'd had opened up, shown him the vulnerable need that he kept as such a closely-guarded secret. And Wolf's damn greed was making him pull away.

But undeniably, it stung knowing Fox was sitting around leaking into his pants while Wolf was moping about not being able to sit across from Fox at a proper tea shop… because if Fox thought as highly of Wolf as Wolf did of him, he’d be moping about that too.

By now, his hovercar had exited the city proper, and the lush green hills of nature reserves surrounded him. In just twenty minutes, he’d be boarding his shuttle.Then, it was just a matter of waiting until his guy was on shift at the CDF watch, and he’d slip away right underneath their sensors.

Corneria seemed so far away, but so did Meteo and Sargasso. Wolf was adrift between worlds, and he didn’t like it.But he had no choice but to keep going, because Sargasso sure as hell wouldn’t run itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks for all the feedback so far! Don't be shy to drop me a line.


	7. Anal Alliance

Wolf had a problem.

Smoke rose from the toasted flesh smoldering beneath him. The air ran rancid as blood oozed out against the unforgiving metal of the dilapidated station. He’d caved in the monkey’s skull with his blaster and ended his suffering with two shots to the back of the head.

His name was Darrel, and Darrel thought leaking Wolf’s movements to Andrew was a smart idea.Maybe he had a family he was trying to feed with the cash Andrew fed him. Maybe he’d already blown all the cash on Katina skunk weed. The reason didn’t matter:Darrel hadn’t played by the rules, and if Wolf took excuses, his empire would fall apart.

Wolf had a problem.Wolf’s problem wasn’t Darrel.

“We’ve cleaned the rest of ‘em up, Boss.” Panther’s smooth baritone provided no consolation. The bright fluorescent lights glared back at him off the feline’s violet combat suit and rifle.

Wolf’s problem was subtle.

“Good.” He bent over to remove Darrel’s comm. He’d scrub it to see if he could milk anything useful from it.“Andrew has lost his rights to use this station. Let’s take it in tow and see if Mira can find a use for it.”

Darrel was dead.Wolf O’Donnell had murdered him.

The official CDF report on the Lylat Wars noted two thousand two hundred and thirty-three ships massacred in a streak of destruction carved out over seven battles by Fox McCloud. The body count was unknown. How many of those ships were drones?How many of them had one pilot? How many of them had full ten-man crews?But no matter how you worked out the numbers, the reality was clear: Fox McCloud was a more vicious killer than Wolf O’Donnell ever had been. But he’d walked away a hero with millions of credits and left Wolf with a bounty on his head.

Was that Wolf’s problem?No.Wolf’s problem was subtle.

How many times had Fox pulled the trigger on someone whose name he knew?How many times had he stared someone in the face as he watched the life leave them?How many times had he shot down a _person_ and not a _bogey_?

“Boss.”

Wolf had been watching the blaster wound cauterize.“I’m ready.Let’s go.”

What was Wolf’s problem?

Not long ago, he would have gunned the ape down and turned his back before the corpse even hit the floor, would have proceeded through his day without so much as a second thought—let alone a moment of hesitation during the act. Now, some magnetic force kept his eyes glued to the charred flesh of the lifeless meatbag that some ten minutes earlier had been a living breathing creature with a name.Just like that, he was gone: no more opportunities to slip a knife in Wolf’s spine, no more opportunities to stuff space-slop into his mouth, no more opportunities to lie down beside some skank at night and whisper sweet falsehoods into her ears. And why the fuck did Wolf give a fuck?

Wolf walked with Panther and Leon to the docking bay.There was no going back to the wolf who’d taken such elation with shoving Stripes’s head into Elephant Valley and regaling him with gleeful threats to shatter his bones. Now, he reserved that elation for watching his pup’s quivering ass gape around his cock and watching wary eyes ease shut under the gentle caress of his fingers. Was he in love?No.Wolf didn’t believe in love. But he was painfully aware of what could have been, had the chips in his life fallen just a little bit differently. For all his life, Wolf and Corneria had been orthogonal, but now, they’d intersected.

What was Wolf’s problem?

Panther lingered too close by his side while they walked. “You’ve been off, Boss. Plotting anything?”

“You could say that.”

“Exciting new project? Hatching a scheme on Katina, perhaps?”

Wolf shook his head. Bless Panther’s heart, but he was dumb. “It’s personal.”

“You?” Panther laughed. “Personal?”

“You ever think about how all this shit brings out the worst in us?”

Panther’s snout tilted. “I’d argue we’re successful precisely because we’re willing to be the worst.”

Instead of _we_ , Wolf heard _you_.Their boots clanged against the stairs as they descended to the bay, where their ships lie in wait.Leon walked behind them, silent. Wolf grunted. “I’ve been running all my life. Figured one day I’d be able to stop.”

“Might I ask whom I have the pleasure of speaking to?You certainly don’t sound like Lord O’Donnell.”

Wolf snorted.

What was Wolf’s problem?It was that he was better than all this.

He kicked the ignition in his Wolfen too hard.“Let’s move.”

The Wolfen roared beneath him and he boosted off into the blackness of space. Thus began his trek back to Sargasso.Panther and Leon maintained a professional silence that he normally found welcoming, but now he found it discomfiting. Moments like these were when he played his little game of avoidance. How long could he go without letting his mind wander to that lazy Cornerian morning he woke up with Fox clutched up against his front?The message from Fox still lingered unanswered on his comm. That whole conversation had been a lesson in the danger of letting his frustration speak for him, so Wolf vowed not to reply until he’d figured out what to say.But if there was one thing he was categorically awful at, it was relationships that weren’t based solely on sex or shooting.

More than once he’d relived the happenings of the last month, more than once with a hand between his legs. Those moments spent with Fox were shining beacons in his otherwise drab existence.They cast a light down on his bleak life and formed a depressing contrast against his sordid daily struggles.

The magnetism was undeniable, strong enough to push past the repulsive resentment. They’d shared that morning not like Fox McCloud and Wolf O’Donnell, but like any other awkward pair waking up beside each other.But they weren’t any other awkward pair. Wolf was the type to kick the other guy out the moment he came and drag his ass back to work five minutes later. He was the type to not respect the other guy enough to value any lingering in the aftermath. People were warm holes to rut or fat dicks to ride: bellows for him to stoke the fire in his loins with.

Fox wasn’t. So, what did Wolf do?

_I’ve gotta jet, but we need to work this out before we meet again._

It took only ten minutes for the cuboid of Sargasso Station to appear in the distance.Wolf fixed his gaze on it, but he struggled to focus on the next item in his calendar, and that made him growl. No, he’d respond to Fox tomorrow.

He pulled up a contact he hadn’t messaged in weeks. _Meet me at my quarters in half an hour._

* * *

Chris the Bunny had a little dick and liked when Wolf teased him about it. He did this cute lopsided stunt with his ears,drooping down just the left one while the right one squirmed in place… especially when Wolf pointed out how, shit, when you’re six and a half feet tall, people expect more than a three-inch stump outsized by Wolf’s index finger.The lanky, twenty-something rabbit’s ears were in that pose now when he pushed into Wolf’s quarters, hand already latching onto the leather-clad outline of a sheath that significantly outsized his fully-erect cock.

“Boss,” he said, breathily.

Wolf liked little dicks just as much as huge ones. They were simple. Charming. Made him feel fucking huge, and playing up that difference in size was hot as hell when someone wasn’t a sensitive little bitch about it. The first time they’d fucked, Wolf had draped his cock alongside the bunny’s and ordered him to just stare at how much bigger he was—and when Wolf told him to wear a jock next time so he could fuck the bunny’s ass without being forced to see his insulting little prick of a cock, he’d thought Chris might cum on the spot. That level of enthusiasm couldn’t be faked, and since that night four years prior, he’d been a regular in Wolf’s bedroom: a multi-orgasmic little bitch who could blow three or four times in a single fuck, thanks to that freaky lapine libido.

Chris peeled off his suit’s bottom with practiced desperation and when his knees hit Wolf’s bed, he was bare from the waist down, cute puff of a tail lifted up to show off his ass. Wolf had never understood all the raving about huge, fat, wobbly, jiggly butts everyone always raved about, asses that might as well belong on a girl; he’d always preferred toned, strong butts on guys who kept in shape and worked out, and this bunny delivered (and so did Fox, times ten—no, don’t think about Fox).Wolf palmed those cheeks and spread them. Chris was about as twinky as they came out here, because looking soft made you a target.A row of piercings along the base of his ears didn't help much. His height helped, and Chris spoke confidently when he was barking shipping orders on the floor, but with Wolf, his voice always strained with need.

Wolf lined up his swelling cock under the bunny’s tail. Chris’s breath hitched. This was his first time topping anyone else since the first time he nestled his dick beneath that pretty orange tail. Above the throbbing of his cock and the feeling of power surging through his veins, a soft undercurrent of relief ran that he could still get it up with this throwaway little bitch.

He and Chris had a very professional relationship. They never spoke unless necessary. Wolf could be in and out in five minutes if he wanted, or he could prolong it to thirty.The bunny was here to sate his needs, to serve him wholly and unquestioningly with a level of commitment that someone like Fox could never fathom.

Chris had arrived with his ass already stretched and lubed, letting Wolf shove to the root on his first thrust. A shaky gasp rattled the bunny’s lanky frame, and Wolf closed those powerful arms around him and squeezed to keep him still. Snarling, Wolf bit into the bitch’s neck and plowed into him. There was no technique in his thrusts, no care, no passion—just frustration, the need for release, and the need to prove a _point_.

The bunny took it:he yipped and yelled and loved every second of it because he always loved every second of it no matter what Wolf did. When Wolf pulled back and left the bunny’s ass gaping, Chris quivered submissively against the bed in anticipation.He didn’t whine out like Fox did ( _stop fucking thinking about Fox, dipshit_ ), didn’t pull back and chase Wolf’s tip with his hole. He growled and rolled the bitch over, putting him on his back so at least they weren’t fucking in the same position as he and Fox. He stared straight ahead at the wall, lined himself up, and thrust into the bunny’s ass like he were a fleshlight.

It wasn’t that Chris wasn’t hot. Chris was right up near the ceiling unless you hired out soulless high-dollar prostitutes on their weekend jaunts to Meteo dives. Wolf’s claws traced underneath the bunny’s top, feeling soft fur and sensitive flesh.Boy had a nice ass. He was a phenomenal bottom, the best Wolf could ask for. But today, the bunny’s body brought him no relief; it brought disappointment and frustration in its disappointment, yet another Darrel with two gaping blaster holes in his skull, only this bitch’s two gaping holes were on opposite ends and they kept coming back for more.

At the age of twenty, Wolf had valued a big dick and a toned ass and a sculpted physique more than anything else. And though Chris was objectively hot and objectively a good fuck, he lacked the intangibles—the things that were so much harder to quantify, the things that made Fox the hottest person Wolf had ever fucked despite him not having the best body, the prettiest ass, or the biggest dick.

At some point, Chris came from Wolf’s fat dick digging right into his prostate. He stood still with his dick halfway buried in the bunny’s ass and counted the contractions: eight times that ring clenched down on him, over which the male beneath him squirmed and struggled to keep control of himself. And Wolf felt not searing passion or pride like had with Fox, but instead a phenomenal sense of indifference.His fingers choked the base of his cock until his knot inflated and he came in the bunny’s ass, but it was a mechanical, soulless climax, like when you squeezed off morning wood while still dehydrated from a long night’s sleep. By the end of it, Wolf wasn’t even panting.

A hand crept underneath Chris’s ass and gave it a squeeze.“We’re finished.”

The bunny picked himself up off the bed looking just a little bit confused, dressed, and headed out the door.

Wolf’s ass sank into the bed. Something ached inside him, gnawing at him. If he couldn’t shoot people, and he couldn’t fuck people, then what could he do?Had he been robbed of everything?

He needed to clear his head at the gym.

* * *

"You fucked him." 

“Shit, calm your tail-feathers.”

"You actually fucked him."

Wolf was in the gym between sets with his ass parked on a bench. Sargasso's third-floor gym was a small affair reserved for a handful of special folks, densely packed with compact machines that hit every muscle in the body. He'd locked the door the moment he got the call from Falco, who he’d been avoiding as ardently as he’d been avoiding Fox. The bird’s shrill voice was a reminder that he couldn’t ignore this forever. "I mean, I keep hoping he'll grow a pair and fuck me for a change, but yeah, he can't seem to keep it out of his ass for more than five minutes, so..."

Falco closed his eyes and shook his head. "Okay, that was way, way too much information."

"But it's kinda cute, ‘cause he can't have it in his ass for more than five minutes without blowing his load either, so--"

"Holy shit man, can you chill?"

Wolf snapped his jaws. "I didn't tell that runt he could spill the beans to you. I'm just evening the scales."

"Not his fault. Look, I knew something was up. I got him drunk, asked him what was going on...” Both Falco's wings raised up into the field of view of the holo; he alternated sock-puppetting each one while he mimed voices. "Ohhhh, Fal, Wolf tried to kiss me, can you believe that? -- No, Fox, I actually can't, that's fuckin' nuts, why the fuck were you even hanging out with him anyway -- Ohhh, Fal, I should have let him do it, he started whining like a little puppy and -- Whoa whoa whoa, slow down, what the fuck is going on with you two?"

Wolf's finger hovered over the 'disconnect' button. If that blue fuckhead called him a puppy one more time… "Right, so get him a little liquored up and he spills it all. " What the fuck else was Fox saying about him? Wolf stood and paced through the gym, stopping in front of a punching bag to sock it.

"Chill the fuck out, man. Look, I've known him forever, I know how to get him to talk. I just--fuck, I never woulda seen this coming. ...I mean, you told me, sure, but I didn't think you were serious."

"You and me both. What else did he tell you?"

"That's it. Said he didn’t want to talk about it.So, you mind spilling?"

"We're fucking. That's it."

"You really tried to kiss him?"

Wolf bristled, wondering how loud Falco would squawk if he tugged on those head-feathers. "Yeah."

"And he wouldn't let you?"

The little fuckface was mocking him, wasn’t he? Wolf didn’t have to deal with this shit. He disconnected and vented his frustrations into the punching bag. 

Was it really that much of a surprise that Wolf would want to fuck Fox?How did Wolf decide who he wanted to fuck?

One: trust. A naked Wolf had no blaster strapped to his side and no knife hidden in his boots. Life as the Iron Fist was different than life as a twenty-five-year-old, back when he could arrive unannounced at a bar and make a game of flirting his way into the pants of anyone who struck his eye.

Two: you had to be fucking hot. Fox both was and wasn’t the most attractive person he’d met.Take his body and put it on someone else, and he’d be hot, but not blisteringly so; he’d be attractive, but not enough to pursue at all costs.But there was something magical about how the curve of his spine lead down to the arch of his ass, and how that ass had been parked into the seat of the only ship to ever blow him out of the sky, and how every single living person would feel privileged to see that ass bare. Shit, he could probably count the number of people who’d seen it on two hands.

Three: competence.This was where Chris failed.A person who couldn’t challenge him wasn’t worth his time anymore, not after he blew his load.He craved company who could keep up with his verbal jousting, who he could hold meaningful conversations with, and whose words he could respect. The electric thrill of seeing someone who ought to hate every fiber of his being instead lift up his ass in submission was a nice bonus.

Who else ticked off all three boxes? None. Sure, there were plenty of eager bottoms out there, and plenty of good dicks. But that respect, that history—it couldn’t be replicated.

What did Fox think?

That they’d signed a contract on their first tryst, a contract that said Fox was good and Wolf was bad, that good boys needed a bad secret, and that Fox’s moral task was to resist the corruption and temptation that Wolf posed to him. Wolf had signed off willingly, reveling in watching Fox throw away a decade of perfectionism to get the dick he’d lusted over for just as long, reveling in being the secret Fox clutched close to his chest, in being the one person who could ruin the McCloud brand and legacy, in being the one person who got to see the depths of degeneracy Lylat’s Golden Boy kept repressed by his need to be a shining symbol for the future of Lylat System—a symbol Wolf thought utterly absurd, given Fox was a damn mercenary pilot, not the fucking Messiah.

But Wolf wasn’t playing his role:he ought not be affectionate. He ought to corrupt, not be corrupted. He ought not to share dignified, intellectual conversations over the breakfast and he ought not to spoon Fox overnight. His charge was to give Fox the Chris treatment, to shove his head into a pillow and bark at him to _deal with it, bitch_ while he sawed his knot in and out to the music of pained whines.

So they needed a new contract.Or something.But Wolf wasn’t a fucking lawyer, and he didn’t know how to handle this shit.

He didn't finish his workout. A pair of monkeys scrambled for his attention as he stalked up the stairs to his third-floor room, but Wolf bared his teeth and dismissed them with a growl. He intended to catch a power-nap, but when he checked his comm after showering, he saw two missed calls from Falco.

"Jeez, I didn't figure you'd be so sensitive," Falco said when Wolf called him back. "He musta really got under your skin, huh?"

Wolf didn't have the energy to play the sarcastic song-and-dance that was expected of him in these calls. "I need to know everything you told him."

"I didn't tell him shit. See, I thought he'd freak if he knew I was chatting you up. Little did I know, you were dicking him down behind my back this whole damn time."

Wolf settled down at his desk. This felt like a business call where he was digging up dirt on an enemy; by instinct, he'd powered on his tablet and opened his notes. "What do I need to know?"

"What, you wanna know his favorite color?"

“He got escorts?Secret flings?“

“One, why you think he tells me this shit, and two, why would I tell you?"

"I don’t know what the fuck he’s thinking.”Wolf was tired and grumpy--too much to play games, and too much to work out what kind of leverage he could get on Falco to make him chirp, so he settled for honesty. "I like the little dipshit, and I don’t wanna fuck up again.”

"And he likes you. So call him and ask himself yourself.“

“He’s a midnight booty call who sprinted over when I sent him a dick pic. The hell are you going on, he likes me? He likes my _dick_ , Falco.”

Falco rolled his eyes. "Okay, and I met like three girlfriends from drunk one-night-stands at the club. Just make some shit up when someone asks how you met, like normal people do." 

“You don’t get how us faggots do things.”

“What you faggots do, is you call your fucking boyfriends.”

Wolf didn’t take the beat. “I need a strategy. Don’t like walking in blind.”

“Yikes. He’s not a fuckin military base. If you like him then fucking _talk_ to him, you dumb dog.”

“ _You dumb dog_ ,” Wolf mimed right back. “Look, tweety-bird, if I break his poor little heart, it’s gonna be _your_ shoulder he cries on.”

Falco raised his wings, exasperated. “ _I don’t fuckin know_ , man. You got any idea how tight that boy’s lips are?”

“So you genuinely don’t know.”

“Look, at this point, I’m just hoping you can screw some sense into him. Pretty sure he never dated anyone his entire life. Never seen him get sick. Pretty sure he’s never taken a shit, actually.” Falco’s frown deepened—it showed more in his eyes than it did in his beak.“You know, more I think about it, more I ain’t surprised you two fucked. You’re both nuts.”

Wolf watched the bird’s image and scrutinized his words, watching for signs of deception, but he found none.Had Fox ever even kissed _anyone_ before?“So. What do I do?”

“Why the fuck are you askin me, man? Just talk to him.” Falco sighed. “But don’t go getting any dumb ideas, okay?”

“The fuck you mean, dumb?”

“Look. Fox can’t even commit to a pair of fuckin’ socks.Especially not one that’s wanted by the CDF.Maybe if they were no-shows he’d get a real thrill outta wearin ‘em under his boots, but only like once a week.Tops.”

“Maybe he needs better fuckin’ socks. Anyone ever told ya you talk too much?”

The conversation went downhill from there, devolving into a series of grudging back-and-forth insults until they burned each other out. The bitter ire they shared was a warm comfort, but the rest of the conversation left Wolf reeling.

Here they were, two decorated war veterans gossiping about a secret gay fling between the two de facto most powerful men in the world.Fox’s brand was worth more than several small planets. Wolf O’Donnell made seasoned criminals flinch and piss themselves with a single look. And now they’d been dragged down into playing the same dumb game of he-said-she-said that dumb bitch Tanya wasted her whole fucking life on.

Wolf was starting to understand what normal people talked about on comms. Maybe that dumb bitch Tanya wasn’t such a dumb bitch after all; maybe life wasn’t about seeing how many asses you could stack on top of your bed at one time, how much of the criminal underworld you could own, or how many lives you could save.

Wolf pulled out his comm. _Date and time, pup. Let's talk._

But it didn’t feel right to leave it at that, so he added:

_Sorry for being an asshole. This isn’t easy for me either. I’m just not as good as you at communicating it._

_Pup is typing..._

_Let’s chat tonight. Can you make that work?_

_I can cancel some plans._

They worked out a meeting time in five hours, which gave Wolf plenty of time to prepare. And prepare he would; it was time he started treating this seriously, and what did Wolf do when he took things seriously, when a project became more than just a personal curiosity and evolved into a greater ambition?

He consulted with Mira.

* * *

Mira was what happened when a clipboard fucked a spreadsheet and the embryo had a genetic mutation that spat out a weasel. He was a feeble old fellow with a hunched back and graying fur and was one of few folks who could get away with speaking quietly in a loud room, because when he talked, people leaned in close to listen.

Wolf’s desk had moved out from the wall to the room’s center, where it served as a sitting table adorned with two glasses of aged Cornerian brandy and the weary palms of a weasel far old to live a life of crime, but too stubborn to learn anything else.The glass shook as Mira’s graying hand brought it to his lips.Only a handful of people ever earned the right to a business meeting in Wolf’s chambers, where one could guarantee freedom from eavesdroppers.

After exchanging pleasantries, Wolf clasped his hands. In front of him, he’d placed his tablet and his comm.“I got a delicate situation I need your assessment on.”

“I presume this is not about your latest recruit.”

Wolf met his eyes.He knew Mira was at his best when he was left alone with his spreadsheets and dense documents, and he only deigned to bring serious problems for which he truly _needed_ the weasel’s insight.

Wolf grunted. It behooved him to be blunt.“‘Bout a month back, I started sleeping with Fox McCloud.”

Mira took the news like one might take a surprising revelation about the weather. The weasel unfolded his glasses and pushed them up along the bridge of his nose, eyes moving down to his tablet.He was one of few people that still preferred analog glasses over eyepieces, implants, or contacts, apparently out of insistence that he knew glasses couldn’t spy on him.“I had been wondering why you spent so much time planetside lately. What are your ambitions for this relationship?”

The word ‘relationship’ rubbed him the wrong way, but he knew Mira was using it in a technical sense.“Don’t know,” he answered.“That’s why you’re here.”He opened up Fox’s messages on his comm and slid the device forward on the table.A twinge of self-consciousness flared in his chest, but handing this over to Mira was like feeding in inputs to a computer.The weasel stayed stone-faced while he read, and once he finished, resumed toying with his tablet.

Wolf told him about each of their meetings. He told Mira about the first silent one, where they’d met and fucked without saying a word; the second, where Fox let his suspicions bleed through and Wolf deadened them enough to touch him; and the last, where they fell asleep and shared a quiet morning together over breakfast. In the back of his head, he knew that meeting would be their last if Fox ever found out about this conversation, but Wolf didn’t have much of a choice. If there were ever a problem big enough to mandate pulling out the big guns, it wasn’t Andrew; it was Fox.

“My ambitions,” Wolf started,“are what I need help with. I’m at a loss.” He described the unusual trepidation he’d felt earlier that day when he’d stared down at Darrel’s corpse. It felt not unlike rattling off a list of symptoms to a doctor.“It’s disruptive, and I need to have a plan before I meet with him again. Because this whole thing is fucking dumb.”

“Dumb, or frustrating?”

“Both.”Mira tilted his goofy mustelid muzzle at him, and Wolf frowned back.“I’m not a lonely teenager who enjoys doting on his love life. Shit, I don’t even believe in love.”

“This affair is between you and McCloud.Whether it is dumb is irrelevant, because it’s clearly _important_.”

“Fine.It’s not dumb, but it’s frustrating.”

Mira looked up from his tablet and met Wolf’s eyes. “He represents that which you cannot have, and you find that threatening. The way I see it, you have two options.” Mira took a drink from his glass of brandy. “The first is that you burn him. The second is that you pursue him.” _Tell me something I don’t know._

Mira slid Wolf’s comm back to him on the table.“The first: you sell these to the Lylat Herald.They will fetch a high price, but that is not the point. They will destroy McCloud’s career, reputation, and identity. If you can’t have him?Nobody can.”

“Burning him is tacky, but it’d end this mess. Hell, it’d be the scandal of the century.” Wolf frowned.“But I don’t wanna do that. Pursuing him...”

“For what?”

“For… yeah, fuck. Like I got any goddamn idea.”

“If you don’t know where to go, why does he interest you?”

Wolf raised his palms high into the air in a shrug, then dropped them to the table with a thud. “He’s interesting. Competent.Connected.”

Mira removed his glasses and leaned forward.“You need to figure out what you want.Two questions that might help you, two questions that are far overdue:who are you now, and who do you see yourself being ten years from now?”

Wolf considered complaining about how this didn’t seem relevant to who he chose to fuck, but he knew Mira would insist that of course it was, because he was fucking the most powerful figure in the world.“The Iron Fist of Meteo. Took me six years to build up that reputation.”

“And ten years down the line?”

“Mira, I never had the damn time to sit down and plan my retirement.”

“Because it presupposes that you have a future.”

“Which ain’t a given.Shit, it’s always been… how do I survive the next month? Always has been, since I was fuckin’ twelve.”

“Not lately.”

Wolf shot down a gulp of brandy. “Go ahead and tell me what you think my options are already, so I can tell you they’re shit.”

The weasel cleared his throat. “ I see two.The obvious one? Become the next Andross.You might succeed where he failed. Then Corneria would no longer be your enemy, because you would control it.”

“That’s shit.”

“The other?Consider Sargasso a finished project, hand it off, and move on.”

Wolf had his elbows on the table; his head rested on a palm. No. Sargasso was his territory. He wasn’t handing it off—and no one could run it like him, anyway. But he ran with the thought experiment. “Implies I got something new to do.”

“You may be close to finding something now. I have—” Mira cleared his throat again—the noise broke off into a series of hacking coughs that a sip of brandy assuaged.“I have just one more question for you.” The weasel met his eyes.“You think you can’t have him. Is that the reason why he frustrates you, or the reason why he interests you?”

Wolf opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of answering before he let the question percolate.

“Can you see how, if it’s the reason why he interests you, that is problematic?”

Wolf’s claws drummed atop the table. “Once I get what I want out of him, I won’t want him anymore.”

“Precisely.”

Wolf finished off his brandy.He didn’t have an answer.“Does it matter? Either way, next step’s the same.”

“And that is?”

“I need to get closer to him. Get past his defenses. Because until I do, I got no way to know what our potential is.”

Mira folded up his glasses and tucked them away into his pocket.“Then it seems you have a plan.”

A short-term goal to figure out what his medium-term and long-term goals were.Wolf grunted.Shooting disobedient pricks was far easier than fretting over this shit; he just wished it was as satisfying.

* * *

Pressing the “CALL” icon on his comm felt more dangerous than staring down three goons with raised blasters. Wolf had moved his table back against the wall and refilled his glass with more brandy. After his talk with Mira, his goal was no longer just to make things up with Fox; his goal was to deepen their relationship.

Talking over comm was something Wolf was well accustomed to, in theory. In practice, he was used to having leverage, barking orders, or having blackmail in his back pocket. The reality was, he was bad at people, bad at talking, and especially bad at _feelings_ (aside from fear). And now, looking at Fox's muzzle when it materialized in front of him—the way his ears nervously flickered atop his head, not quite all the way up but not quite easing down; the way his smile didn't light up his eyes; and the way those green eyes looked past Wolf's projection, not at it--Wolf wondered how different they were in that sense. Fox could handle millions of broadcast viewers without even breaking a sweat, but a one-on-one chat with Wolf over boundaries for their ongoing anal alliance? That was different.

Had Fox spent as much of the last week brooding over their interactions as he had? And what did Fox think when he saw Wolf’s head materialize in front of him—because Wolf’s first thought was how he wanted to get a hand right between those ears and shove Fox’s pretty head right down against his swelling bulge.

This was the type of person that turned him on, that excited him.Not Chris, and not Gorath.

An uneasy tension lay thick between them. “Here I thought the first time we did this, we'd have our pants off."

Fox laughed nervously. “That’d be way too awkward." There--right there, that was a happy smile. Bright, shining teeth and that cute wrinkle near the eyes.Fox's eyes were looking right at his hologram—Wolf wasn't there in the room, but you got a good sense for these things when you did so much business over comms. He could tell.

He lowered his voice, hoping to sound sincere. “Please just tell me to shut the fuck up if I call you a moron again.”

“It’s okay,” Fox said, but he was just saying it; Wolf was on thin ice.“I think we handle stress differently. And we struggle with different parts of…” He shrugged. “This.”

 _This_. Step one was to dissolve that awkward tension and replace it with something more fun. 

“No, seriously. Tell me to shut the fuck up. We’ll have a big fight, then we can have make-up sex…”

Fox laughed.“ _Wolf.”_

“And can we agree that we have really fucking good sex?”

The sigh and the shake of his head couldn't hide his grin. “Incredible.”

“And that we wanna keep doing it?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good, ‘cause you ain’t gonna find anyone who can fuck you like I can. And you also ain’t gonna find anyone who can cook better than me, either. That’s how you know I’m a keeper.“Wolf pointed to his eyepatch.Keeping a straight face was difficult in the face of Fox’s laughter.“Guess I’m an alright shot, too, even if I only got one eye.”

“You are ridiculous.”

“Damn right. I’m fuckin ridiculous. Say it like that, pup.“

“ _Fuckin ridiculous_.” Fox’s ears flicked happily atop his head.“If you’re _fuckin ridiculous_ , what am I?”

Wolf pointed a finger at his hologram. “ _You_ are someone that I _seriously_ don’t wanna piss off.” He chewed on a lip. “I’m not good at this stuff, pup, but I’m tryin. Go easy on me if I fuck up?”

Fox nodded.“Same for me. But I wanna try.”

Wolf grinned back, but it faded quickly. “Let’s talk boundaries, so we don’t piss each other off again. First—falling asleep? Total accident.I mean it.”

“I coulda woken you. But I didn’t want to.”

“How about the rest?”

Fox took in a deep breath. “The touching was fine. The... cuddling..."

"What a dumb word."

Fox laughed. "You really liked that, didn't you?"

Wolf scowled. "I usually don't."

"I don't either.” Fox scratched his ears.“Honestly? It was all great.Screwing, sleeping together, the morning… but look, the hugging, the kiss...” Fox was staring off into the distance again. “It didn't feel like it was…”

He looked so fucking cute when he was struggling to find words.Crazy, imagining this was the same dignified war hero who stood in front of podiums decked out in gleaming golden metals and gave speeches that would line the pages of tomorrow’s history books.

“…it didn’t feel like it was just a kiss. It was--you were so _intense_ , and… it seemed like…”

“I was sure you wanted it.“

"It's--not that simple."

“I want it to be. Look, you don’t gotta be flighty. You wanted to kiss me, and—”

“In the moment, yeah.”Fox’s voice was quiet, but Wolf let it cut him off. “But I don’t do things in the moment, 'cause I have to live with them the next day, and—sorry, that came out wrong. Sorry.”

Ouch. Wolf rubbed at his forehead with his palm. “Be real with me. Do you want me just as your personal dildo? Is that all you’re after?“

Fox took way too long to answer. "...maybe. If I can't get over this. Would that be okay?”

Wolf glanced over at the blackness in his window. "Maybe. Look, you can call me your dildo all you want in the bedroom. Fuck it, I'll even bring a gag and handcuffs—that's hot as fuck. But I'd prefer if that wasn't what you actually thought of me."

"Just like when you called me a whore.”

“Yeah. I _like_ you, Fox."

"You don't really know me." Fox didn't miss a beat. "But it’s nice having someone I respect to screw around with. Helps that your dick is thick as my wrist, but that’s a bonus. Really.”

"I wanna know you." Wolf kept his voice soft. “Not sure how much you wanna know me."

“I’m not sure either." Shot down with brutal efficiency, just like Katina all those years ago. "So let's take things slow. Give me time. It’s a lot to process.”

Give me time to say no, Fox meant. Give me time to get all the dick I want, then drop you once I get bored.“Okay." _I genuinely like you. Not saying I wanna date you, but I want you to feel comfortable with me._ He willed himself to say the words, but he couldn’t.“We can do a lot for each other. No one else can keep up like we can. And I genuinely wanna be the best fuck you’ve ever had. You got any idea how much of a damn stud it makes me feel when I make you cum on my knot?”

“You already are.”Fox said the comment off-handedly, and Wolf deflated when he realized Fox wasn’t really paying attention.“Hey, Wolf? Business call. Can I call you back in... half an hour?"

Wolf checked his calendar. He was supposed to meet with Panther in half an hour for sims. "Sure."

He hadn’t touched his drink this whole time.He downed it all now.

* * *

It was forty-five minutes later when Fox called him back. "Sorry, academy donor,” Fox said. “No choice but to put up with them." The white comforter on his bed was visible behind him now; Fox was lying down. He looked tired.

"You get those calls often?"

"Massive pain in the ass."

"And not the fun kind."

Fox winked at him. “I’m gonna sleep soon. But I wanted to make sure we were okay.”

We? "We're okay.”

“And I kinda just wanna talk a bit.”Wolf tilted his snout. Fox continued. “It’s fine if you’re busy.”

He thought back to Panther. “Nah. Got something on your mind?”

Fox stroked his chin and, after a moment, pointed a finger and a grin at him. “I heard you clawed out your own eye, just to look tough.”

Wolf cracked a grin right back at him.He usually made up a new story every time, because when you got asked the same damn thing a hundred times, you had to have fun with it somehow.But he told Fox the real one:the midnight raid on the family of foxes, the snow leopard who’d mugged him for his haul and scratched out his eye…But when he saw how Fox’s features sagged, he decided to end the story there. No sense in bringing up his first meeting with Andross.

“Sorry, Wolf. Didn’t know you had it so hard.”

“Not all of us were dealt as good a hand as you. Made the best of what I had.“ Wolf didn’t like the look on Fox’s snout.“You got a less depressing story you can share?”

Fox thought for a second, then rose up out of the frame and returned a minute later carrying something in his hand. It took a moment for the fuzzy signal to resolve: a little miniature ship, about the size of Fox’s palm.

“I don’t know how well you can see the colors over holo, but—Space Dynamics makes these little promotional figurines for their fighters and sells small batches of ‘em. I always have ‘em keep a couple for me. …I like painting them.”

Wolf stood up and moved to his bed, settling down with a weary sigh.“That’s fuckin cute. I like the detail on the wings, there. Got any others?”

They chatted for nearly ten minutes straight. Fox showed him a few more little figurines, and they ended up talking about drinks when Wolf asked him what he liked besides tea. Fox liked craft beer, cocktails, and those fancy lattes with the Arwings on them from Grounds Zero up in Central Skyway.Wolf thought of mentioning that he’d never had one before, and that one day he’d like it if Fox could take him there and show him what was so great about them. But thinking that made him sad, so he kept it to himself.

By the end of that exchange, Fox had turned over on his side and his eyelids drooped in fatigue.He’d slowly become more comfortable over the course of the conversation: less looking past him, more looking right at him.

When the conversation reached a lull, Wolf couldn’t help himself.“You know, you’re real cute like that. Wish I could join ya.”

Fox studied him for a moment. “Y’know? I’d like that.”

“And I could wake you up tomorrow with a dick thick as your wrist."

The visible squirm was satisfying. Fox rolled on his back and his image stuttered while he moved his comm.“Listen, Wolf? It’s not that I don’t wanna invite you over, but I got people watching me. You show up here, it’s gonna be on the news the next day.”

“Oh, please. Like I ain’t an expert at sneaking around.”

“I’d rather not risk it.”

“Fine.” Wolf had to be careful what boundaries to push—it was good enough that now Fox was talking like they’d meet up again. “Y’know, how about… why don’t we rent one of those lakeside cabins out the city, huh?Just you, me, and a big ol’ fuck-cottage all to ourselves?”

“You’re sure that can’t be traced?”

“I’m a criminal, Fox. If I could be traced, I’d be in jail.”

“And I know how to lose people, so if it’s outside the city...”

“Then we’ll make it work.And we'll be limping by the time we're done.”

Wolf was grinning. Fox was grinning.That strange warmth was buzzing in his chest again. It was becoming familiar. He liked that, and he liked the wide-eyed horny squirm he got from Lylat’s Golden Boy.

He smirked.“Hey, pup? Take off your pants.We’re gonna jerk off together before bed.”

It took Fox a few seconds to muster the composure to slide his pants down. Wolf learned three things in the ensuing moments. One, that Fox's dick was seriously no joke. Two, that Fox made an adorable face when he came, even on holo. And three, that sending Fox to bed sated and happy stoked that possessive, territorial streak in him.

He wanted to wrap both arms around Fox and squeeze, wanted to fall asleep next to him and wake up grinding on his ass, wanted to kiss that pretty snout. But how could he get Fox to make him seem worth it? How could he break past the barrier of being a forbidden midnight booty call? It wasn’t that Fox didn’t like him—it was that he still had all these bad conceptions of Wolf in his head, things that kept him from getting any closer. And awkward as it was, they had to be attacked.

After cleaning up, he sat at his desk and wrote, because if he wanted any chance of success in this, he needed to treat it like anything else and come up with a plan. After fifteen solid, grueling minutes and another glass of brandy, he at last had something he didn’t hate.

_Listen, pup. We gotta talk about where we’re heading with this._

_We got something special here. Who the fuck else do you and I have?What, you gonna be fuck-buddies with some military tight-ass or some jerkoff you met at the Academy?You think I wanna be fuck-buddies with the lowlifes who work for me?_

_I like you. Why the fuck wouldn’t I?You’re hot as hell, fun as fuck, and cute as shit._ _Me and you?We’re two of a kind.So I wanna let you know, this is special to me. It ain’t just sex. That’s why it felt weird, when I tried to snog you. It was weird to me too._

_And I know this sounds corny as shit, and don’t you ever fucking tell anyone I said it or I’ll have your balls. But you're good for me. You kinda make me happy. And I wanna see more of you._

He committed the lines to memory, because the next time he and Fox met, he was going to say them aloud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story just seems to keep getting longer. Oops. I'm sure I'll hear lots of complaints.
> 
> We're near the wrap-up; just two more chapters to go, and then I'll have a couple of fun announcements to make.
> 
> The history described in this story is given in my oneshot "A Series of Unfortunate Events" -- check it out if you haven't seen it already!
> 
> As always, I appreciate all the comments, kudos, and messages I've gotten so far (I got 69 kudos at chapter 6/9--nice)! Don't be shy if you want to chat Star Fox or writing with me, and I'm always open to new beta-readers.


	8. Knottage Cottage

They always ended up back here.

 _Here_ was a ground-floor apartment in the eastern slums with boarded-up windows. _Here_ was a basement cellar whose entrance skulked shamefully in a neglected back alley. _Here_ was the top floor penthouse of a Skyway Spire, one solitary night traded for a pair of bullet-holes in a rival executive’s head. _Here_ was a log cabin nestled against the mouth of a river, bathed in the glow of twilight and the wanting song of crickets.

Here was the immutable prison cell erected around its inmate.

Fox’s eyes met his the moment he entered, and only then did they drink in the sight of Wolf’s burly physique.Instead of scrambling to strip, he sat on the bed where Wolf sprawled and looked him over like an old friend. Around them, the walls were stacks of artificial lumber, peppered with pelts and horns of feral beasts. A palm moved to touch him but reconsidered halfway there. “Hey. How you been?”

The question was alarmingly _normal_. Sitting up, Wolf joined him on the bed’s edge.Did he want an answer, or was he being polite?“Things could be worse.”

No longer scared, Fox touched him. The contact started with one of his pecs and wandered lower until gentle fingers scratched at his stomach. “I like your little belly.”

“I hate it.”

Fox leaned closer, rubbing Wolf’s midsection with a grin.“Are you a leg-kicker?”

“I’ll fight you, Fox.” Wolf tugged him by the mohawk. That gorgeous muzzle growled up at him, a lazy, playful growl while a hand clutched at Wolf’s bulge.When Wolf released him, his muzzle parked its leathery pad down there instead. Closing his eyes, Fox pulled in a deep gulp of scent.

Wolf relaxed and let him explore. Fox’s nose traced its way around his sheath-bulge, quick inhalations tickling through the fabric. The attention drew it taut.When his hips rocked up reflexively to grind his bulge against Fox’s nose, he grunted in turn and licked over its peak.He treated Wolf with the same reverence as always, but something was different now.

“What do you want to do this time?” Fox had tugged back from Wolf’s junk. Wolf’s answer was to nudge him back down.

Something felt awfully intimate about how Fox eased down the pouch of his jock and traced his tongue over his flesh, testing the weight of each ball before approaching his lipsticking sheath. A droplet of pre oozed on his tongue, and that pretty snout lined up so that as Wolf swelled out of his sheath, he swelled into Fox’s maw. His jaw unhinged past its comfort zone, yawning open with a groan to accommodate his girth.

Wolf’s cock throbbed.

Fox met his eyes and swallowed, gulping down pre. “F _uck_.” Wolf gripped at the sheets.

Wolf’s cock throbbed harder.

He itched to thrust his hips and plunge his dick deeper in Fox’s mouth, to grab him by the ears and hold him down, to dangle his head over the bed and rail him until he was a gagging, choking mess--but he resisted, because some great things required great restraint.

Fox’s eyes shut when Wolf’s tip pushed too deep for comfort; his hands balled up the sheets while he waged war on his gag reflex.Whining, he jerked back with a wet cough that spewed a mess of pre and spit down his chin. A hand clutched at Wolf’s base, holding his dick up in display for Fox’s eyes to gawk at—and as soon as Fox recovered his wits, his tongue mashed against the belly of Wolf’s cock as if in thanks for making a complete sputtering wreck of him. Pup was still catching his breath, but he couldn’t keep his mouth off it.

Wolf’s cock throbbed harder than ever before.

Fox turned his snout to the side and let the heavy weight of Wolf’s dick slap against his cheek. “I love sucking cock,” he said hoarsely.

“I fucking love your mouth.”

“I love your cock.”

Wolf flexed his dick; it surged in Fox’s hands, and his mouth chased it. Wolf’s thoughts raged.Fox McCloud loved his cock. But he kept his cool, kept that lazy smirk on his muzzle.“Get to the base, and I’ll let you fuck me.”

Fox crouched in front of him and if his ragged breath and greedy eyes didn’t give away his need, the damp bulge running nearly to his hip did. “I’m gonna fuck you tonight, Wolf.”

Fox made three attempts.On the first, Wolf’s tip plugged an inch down Fox’s gullet before his throat protested—adjusting to its size, Fox stalled before attempting a downward plunge that made him arch back and sputter. His second attempt followed before he’d even caught his breath: he blew past that barrier, getting nearly to Wolf’s knot in one go. Fox’s eyes snapped open; he stared right down at the single inch taunting him just out of his reach like it was a hated enemy, Wolf in the Lylat Wars all over again.He whined and humped his hips into the air like a horny teenager—a droplet of pre had soaked completely through his pants and Wolf wanted to mash his tongue against that bulge and lap it up.

Fox choked and wrenched himself back. Wolf cackled.

“Shut up,” Fox barked. He angled Wolf’s dick towards him and ground his tongue base to tip. “Shut—” He peppered Wolf’s cock with praising kisses.“Shut up. Your ass is mine, Wolf.”

Then came the third attempt. He tried. He tried his damn hardest, but Fox couldn’t do it. Just a fraction deeper he slid, where he strained until his head jerked back and aside. 

He failed. “You’re… too thick.”

“That’s okay, pup.” He pointed a lazy finger between Fox’s legs and licked his lips. “You wanna whip that thing out, I’ll show you how it’s done.”

“No.”

The sound of a zipper tugged at Wolf’s ears.Fox fished out his dick. It pulsed and leaked, but that hand stayed fixed to it, stroking while Fox mouthed at Wolf’s cock once more. His eyes dared Wolf to stop him. And he didn’t; Wolf spread his legs, presenting it all for that greedy muzzle.

Anal was fine. It was intense and stimulating, and though it required a certain degree of vulnerability, it wasn’t necessarily intimate—especially not when he bent Fox over and fucked him like a dog, pup’s eyes looking the other way like he couldn’t stomach the reality of the object of his lust.

Anal was a simple transaction: Fox wanted to get fucked hard and deep. Wolf wanted to fuck hard and deep.

This was different. Fox’s mouth paid homage to him as enthusiastically as Wolf’s had last time.Mouth, tongue, and fingers explored, aching for more:all over his balls, all over every inch of him, and throughout, Fox shook with the rhythm of self-pleasure, reveling in his worship. The cool pad of his nose wedged under Wolf’s balls to grind at his taint and then took the weight of those balls atop the bridge of his snout—and Fox’s frantic strokes of his own cock intensified while he smothered himself in Wolf and moaned.His tongue traced up the front side of Wolf’s cock, then turned and traced up the other side, then the other, leading up to a greedy kiss on the tip capped off by engulfing it once more. Pre leaked down Wolf’s cock, bathing Fox’s fur and funneling into his mouth.

And Fox pumped at his own cock like this was his ultimate fantasy.

Wolf hadn’t blinked once. The only thing that could make it better was Fox’s cock in his mouth, but he dared not interrupt the moment.

When Fox’s hand squeezed at his base, Wolf knew it’d end fast.He lost himself in the fire building in his loins:he snarled, watching Fox squeeze his own root right as Wolf blistered with heat.

Fox swallowed.And swallowed, and swallowed, and swallowed, and he wrote his own climax in streaks of thin liquid splattering against the sheets.

Wolf struggled to catch his breath.As they tapered off, he reached down for his fuck-buddy, who climbed up and sprawled on top of him, panting and exhausted.

They’d just fucked for the first time. The others were dress rehearsals. Foreplay. Porn under the hazy buzz of VR. _This_ was the real deal—raw and feeling and addictive. How he’d love to set aside a whole weekend to experience hours and hours more.If anything nagged at him, it was how he wished he’d slaved over Fox’s dick with his mouth, or shoved it under his tail, or mashed it against his and ground them together… or crammed his own knot where it _belonged_ now, right under that gorgeous tail.

But he’d get a chance to do all that and more over the coming months.

“Fuck.”

The curse made Wolf laugh.“I know.You’re fucking hot.”

“ _You’re_ fucking hot.”Fox tucked his head under Wolf’s neck—into its home—and it wasn’t a kiss but it was _something_ , the way that tongue licked under his neck in affectionate submission.It was undeniable progress, as was the way Fox squeezed an arm around him like he was as greedy for warmth and body contact as he had been for dick.

The afterglow radiated golden warmth.Fox’s tail swayed contentedly behind him, jutting out of pants that still clung to his frame.Everything was a beautiful clusterfuck of a mess, wet and sticky and rank with the odor of sex. Wolf’s eye closed and he basked in it.

“Hey, Wolf?” His voice was high and tentative.Wolf grunted an acknowledgement.“Are you doing this with anyone else?”

Wolf tensed. That was a Serious Question. “Nah. I sleep around a bit, but nothing like this. Why—you jealous?“

“Curious.” He squeezed Wolf like a stress ball. “I don’t know how normal this is to you.”

“Nothing normal about it, pup.” Should he ask? “You?”

“Don’t sleep around much.Haven’t wanted to, since we started.”

Wolf breathed. “I ain’t gonna ask ya to be exclusive. Fuck around all you want. Shit, send me pictures.” He leaned up to lick an ear.“But you won’t find anything better than this.”

Fox barked out a laugh. “I know.Neither will you.”

“I know.”Wolf knew because he’d tried. 

An arm hooked around Fox’s midriff.How well did he know him?They held each other peacefully.The sex was amazing, the chemistry undeniable. This was where people would go out on dates. They’d tell their friends. They’d come over to each other’s houses instead of leaving steamy trails of cum-soaked rentals in their wake.

But there was nothing normal about this.

“We can talk all you want,” Wolf said.“But I can’t promise you’ll like what you hear. I’ve done a lot of shit I ain’t proud of.”

Pup’s hands closed around Wolf’s wrist.“Sounds like you didn’t have much of a choice.”

Wolf’s fingers rubbed at his belly, keeping his arm still so as not to bother Fox’s grip. “You ever think about how different things coulda been?”

“Like if you’d gone to the Academy?”

“Shit. We coulda been on a team together.Hell, we coulda dated.”

Fox studied him. “Is that what you want?”

Now.This was his chance. He beckoned the words from his memory to his tongue.

_Listen, pup. We gotta talk about where we’re headed with this._

“Fuck if I know. Listen, pup, we gotta… we should talk, about…”

“Never been the dating type, myself.”

“Me neither.”

 _We got something special here. Who the fuck else do you and I have?What, you gonna be fuck-buddies with someone you met at the Academy?You think I wanna be fuck-buddies with any of the lowlifes who work for me?_ He bid his tongue to say the words.

“But, you gotta admit,” Wolf started. “We got something real… different here.”

He couldn’t say the word _special_ , and deservedly, Fox laughed.“Different? I’d say.”

“I mean—you’re not like my other…”

Fox's head backed away. “Not sure I wanna hear about the other people you’re fucking while we’re cuddling, Wolf.” Playful, but annoyed.

__

Why was he so bad at this? _I like you.You’re hot as hell, fun as fuck, and cute as shit._

__

Wolf steeled himself. _“_ You’re way better than any of them.”

__

“I think you should drop it.”

__

Wolf squeezed too hard and pressed his lips together too tight.“Fox, I’m trying to—”

__

Fox looked at him, confused.

__

_Me and you? We’re two of a kind._

__

Wolf sucked in a breath. “I’m trying to tell you that… if you wanted me to, I’d even stop, with the others, because me and you…”

__

_So I wanna let you know, this is special to me. It ain’t just sex. That’s why it felt weird, when I tried to snog you. It was weird to me too._

__

“You’re special to me,” Wolf blurted.

__

The smile fled Fox’s snout and he looked away. Frightened hands gripped his wrist for support. Staring up at the ceiling, Fox looked Serious again. After a moment, he shifted on the bed and curled up on Wolf, whiskers tickling a pec.“I know,” he murmured. An arm settled on Wolf’s chest. A gentle sound rumbled in the air: Fox McCloud purred.

__

He took in a breath and rubbed his palm into the small of Fox’s back. Fox didn’t have to say anything. 

__

Wolf was special, too.

__

His body surged with hormones telling him he was in love with this fox. Love was a cocktail of chemical reactions aimed at duping straight people into sticking together long enough for the glue of childbirth to bind them in a rotting, guilty eternity. Transient as the chemical stew might be, he enjoyed it with the overarching confidence that his reasons for liking Fox ran deeper than the butterflies fluttering in teen girls’ stomachs the first time they held hands with Bobby Dumbfuck.

__

“Let’s keep doing this,” Fox whispered.“Once a week, or every couple weeks…”

__

_And I know this sounds corny as shit, and don’t you ever fucking tell anyone I said it or I’ll have your balls. But, you kind of make me happy. And I wanna see more of you._

__

Wolf gave Fox a gentle lick between the ears. “I’d like that. You make me—” He couldn’t say it.“You make me feel alive.”

__

They always ended up back here.

__

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* * *

__

__

Wolf had ordered the best earl gray money could buy and, juvenile as it sounded, he’d practiced. When Fox emerged from the cabin after his shower, a steaming mug greeted him.

__

“What’s this?” Fox asked, eyeing it suspiciously.He’d tugged on his jacket to combat the chilly night air.

__

“Made you tea.”

__

A happy bark of laughter burst free. “You did not make me tea.”

__

Fox joined him. They sat side-by-side at the retro pseudo-wooden picnic table overlooking the overgrown lakeside, each nursing a mug. Around the cabin’s perimeter, the forest rustled with life. “Figured I ought to give you something less salty to swallow.”

__

Fox blushed and tried to mask it with a sip of tea, but he jolted when the scalding liquid burnt his tongue. “You’re trying too hard.”

__

Wolf grinned.“You should try harder.”

__

“My jaw disagrees.”

__

Wolf chuckled and patted him on the shoulder.He relaxed, enjoying the view and the subtle citrus flavor. Though he was right-handed, Wolf switched his mug to his other left so that arm could wrap around Fox, who leaned into his embrace.

__

Everything was at peace.

__

To his surprise, Fox broke the silence. “I didn’t realize how freeing it would be.”

__

“Freeing?”

__

“I never have to keep up appearances, with you.” Fox’s eyes bored into his. Wolf couldn’t look away. “Never have to slip on the mask.”

__

“The mask.”

__

Fox slipped his hand into Wolf’s, quickening his pulse. “We’re supposed to hate each other.And that first time I came over? We started at rock bottom.”

__

“Nowhere to go but up.”

__

“Right.”Fox’s eyes looked off into the horizon, watching the shimmers of moonlight on the water. His mohawk waved in a gentle breeze.“It’s scary.”

__

Wolf squeezed his hand, feeling witness to something profound. “Tell me about it?”

__

“I’m honest with you.And it’s made me think about why I wear the mask so much.”

__

“Why you’re still in the closet?”

__

“More than that." Fox squinted, hints of a bitter scowl on his snout. "You don’t know what it’s like to be a household name before you go through puberty. To have everyone looking at you like you have all the answers when you’re just some kid who never had a chance to grow up. Everyone always expect so much of me, and I just...”

__

Wolf cut him off with a firm squeeze of his hand. The words sounded practiced; did Fox have a script, too? And though Fox's torment cut him, hearing him open up felt significant. “Seems like you grew up fast. Just like me.”

__

Fox laughed, the sound loud and sudden enough to startle the pesky crickets into a fleeting silence. “I know twenty different ways to disarm a man and put him on his ass in seconds, but I’ve never been kissed on the lips.”

__

Wolf frowned. “You weren’t a virgin, were you?”

__

“No, no. I’ve—” He laughed—had he ever told this to anyone else before?“Falco set me up with a guy. You pay him, he hooks you up. Expensive, but discreet.” He shrugged.“That, or I never show my face.”

__

“What, you mean like glory holes?”

__

Fox’s blushing silence said it all.“When I was younger. It’s nice to not be me sometimes.”

__

“Sex is the great equalizer. Everyone’s gotta fuck.”

__

"Is it?" Fox squirmed, his expression unreadable. "I top eighty percent of the time. I’ve only been tied a few times in my life.” His muzzle scrunched up and his voice lowered. “You’re more special than you realize.”

__

Wolf clenched his jaw shut because if he said anything now, it’d be something stupid. The burn of steaming tea helped snap him back to reality. “You’ve never been kissed before,” he repeated.

__

“Wolf, I’ve never slept with anyone before. That night with you was the first.”

__

Wolf hadn't felt emotional in a long time, but if he spoke now, his voice would crack. He shut his eye and took in a deep breath, concentrating not on the burn in his eye, but on the uncomfortable bare wooden surface underneath his ass. “I think,” Wolf said carefully, “we’re both wearing masks.Different kinds of ‘em.”

__

“I’ve heard the stories about Lord O’Donnell.”Finally, Fox looked at him.“He’s not someone who’d...” He gestured at his mug of tea.

__

Wolf tugged Fox in against his side, holding him tightly while they watched the shimmering water.Mira’s warning weighed heavily on his mind. “You think we’d still work together if we took off the masks?”

__

“I’m not sure.It’s dumb, but I’ve been wondering, too.” Fox took in a deep breath, but it came out a laugh. “Fuck, Wolf. How dumb is this, how this whole thing started?“

__

Wolf chuckled, and he didn't even have to pause to think because he'd already thought the same thing himself. “We’re people, Fox. People are horny fucks who need each other. All of ‘em, even us. But me and you—who else do we got?”

__

“No one.”

__

Fox turned away and nestled against Wolf's side, moving only to bring the mug to his lips. When he emptied it, he stood and gestured for Wolf to follow him down towards the lakeside. Overgrown weeds and cattails intruded on the path, which ended in stones forming stairs down into the water. Wolf memorized every detail of the scenery because he knew he’d summon this image for comfort on sleepless nights.

__

When they reached the final step, Fox drew him into a hug and he wasn’t sure how long they held it. With fingers gently stroking Fox's back, Wolf nosed at an ear and flicked his tongue out against it. Fox's eyes closed.“I’m yours, pup.”

__

Fox squeezed hard enough to wind him. “I’ve never dated anyone before,” Fox said softly, making Wolf shiver.“Thanks.For letting me take this slowly.”

__

Wolf couldn’t believe the words. He squeezed Fox tightly while the chemical stew raged in his head, roaring over everything else.

__

His fox.His fox.His Fox.

__

__

* * *

__

__

Wolf had another problem: Darrel was one of many.

__

Darrel. Stripes. The fuckheads on the derelict station on Sector Eight. Darrel’s carelessness with his communications confirmed they all held a common origin.Uncle’s Little Nephew was pissed off at his former captain’s ruthlessness, growing desperate enough to blindly fling money in the direction of anyone who’d surrender a foothold.

__

On one hand, it bode well.Andrew’s late fuckface of an uncle bequeathed to him an enormous stockpile of resources, and bleeding them dry now would swing the long-term balance in Wolf’s favor. On the other hand, his calendar burst at the seams with greedy pricks to smack down.

__

Eleven fucking missions over the next three weeks.The last time he’d been this busy was during his struggle to carve out a niche in the desperate vacuum of power left by Andross’s death.

__

But even with such a daunting schedule ahead, his thoughts always drifted back to Lylat’s Golden Boy. _My fox._ He tuned his comm into Global Cornerian News.18:00 CST.

__

“And joining us here to discuss the launch of this new program is esteemed pilot and veteran of the Lylat Wars, Fox McCloud. Welcome, Fox.” The talking-head-of-the-day was a tomboyish black poodle in a lacy red blouse. “Could you tell us a bit about this initiative?”

__

Was that the same white jacket and red scarf Fox had worn in the war, or did he have a whole closet of duplicates in case he spilled his coffee one day? “Hi, Mindy. Thanks for having me.” Pup kept his hands clasped over the desk. _Pup._ Who else watching this broadcast earned the right to a pet name?No one. “The Youth Initiative is a collaboration between Space Dynamics and the Cornerian Flight Academy. It’s actually three separate programs.”

__

“Could you tell us what these are?”

__

“Sure. The first is a series of competitive scholarships offered to promising young pilots, for which the Academy might be outside their normal financial means.” Fox sat upright and spoke with such confidence. Not too difficult with a teleprompter, but Fox nailed the balance between authoritative and casual tones when he spoke.

__

How many other people watching this segment knew the particular idiosyncrasies of Fox McCloud’s orgasmic moans, or the hoarse tone in his voice when he muttered “yes, yes” on the brink of climax?Who else knew how empowering it felt to stare at the tender pink hole beneath Fox’s raised tail, presented for claiming? How many people knew how he squirmed and begged when he had a tongue back there?

__

“And what are the qualifications for these scholarships?”

__

He finished playing musical chairs with his calendar. On holo now, Fox discussed the second program in the initiative.Wolf didn’t care about those damn programs, aside from the burning jealousy they ignited in his chest (Wolf wished he had a fucking scholarship—his only option had been Andross). It was sleep time, but he watched the newscast until the segment’s end.

__

His chest swelled with pride. _Mine._

__

Wolf scrolled through his messages. Not a day went by without at least a handful of messages. The flirting and dirty-talk never stopped, but the closer they grew, the less it dominated the conversation and the more they chattered about—

__

About nothing.Like normal people. Like that dumb bitch Tanya.

__

Wolf knew Fox’s favorite tea, his favorite blaster, his favorite setting on the Arwing’s G-Diffusers, his distaste for his early-morning schedule, his favorite animal (raccoons— _Isn’t this video adorable, Wolf?_ ), and his fear of geese ( _You’re a fucking baby, pup)_. These were the threads that bound two people together—not knots tying them for the duration of an orgasm, but the daily thoughts of _What’s that fucking twerp up to?_ , the nag of _What would Pup think if he saw me doing this?_ , and not tolerance, but active enjoyment of asinine small talk Wolf dreaded with anyone else.

__

Sprawling in bed and thinking of Fox made him wag.

__

A finger hovered over Eli's name in his contacts, and the ape’s words from a month back replayed in his head. _If she gets your story out, there's gonna be so much good press. You know the narratives everyone gets told, and this is your chance to clean 'em up!_ A few rings later, the ape's head materialized. Eli wore his Cornerian military headgear and a pair of crimson shades to block the Katinan sun, both a sharp contrast to his off-white fur.

__

“Boss? I don’t have any updates since last week.General Malvern has—”

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“Tell me more about that journalist, why don’t you?”

__

__

* * *

__

__

Wolf stirred a pinch of salt into his coffee.When gulping down the freeze-dried shit they served out here, a little salinity helped deaden the obtuse bitterness.

__

She sat down across the table from him, stealing glances while she rummaged in her oversized purse.Marta Salinsky was a mink with a florid purple dress pulled over her white coat.Did she think dressing up and flaunting those oversized tits would win his favor?

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"I'm glad we were able to make this work," she said. They sat in a small cafe on a residential station near the outskirts of Meteo; this was the place you nursed your hangover after a trip to one of the three notorious drug-den clubs on this station.She repressed a grimace while she sipped her coffee, placing her tablet down in front of her on the table. “Marta Salinsky, Lylat Herald. I was beginning to doubt we’d ever meet in person.” She didn’t offer to shake his hand.

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Wolf shrugged. He hated her already. Wolf reminded himself that he was doing this for himself and Fox, not for her or Eli."What can I say? I had a change of heart." The coffee was still gross, salt aside."Now, why don't we start with what Eli has already told you?"

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“Right to business, aren’t you?” She tapped a few buttons on her tablet and recited bits and pieces of information. Wolf nodded here and there and provided some corrections where necessary:no, he wasn't thirty, no, he hadn't been born with a bad eye...

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"Why don't you tell me how that happened, then?"

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Wolf told the real story again, but this time he didn’t stop with the snow leopard:he narrated the crawl back to his old residence and a confused call with a pre-banishment Andross while she looked at him like a dead frog on a dissection plate.

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“You must have started your criminal career very early, then? You fell into street gangs at such a young age."

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"Didn't join a gang.Thought I was too good for that shit.” The irony.“Guess I was wrong."

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"I understand you now run one of the largest criminal enterprises in the Lylat System."

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"Sure doesn't sound flattering when you put it that way, does it?"

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She tapped out what must have been a damning note on her tablet and took another sip of coffee. “Why did you start Sargasso?”

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"Whole damn Lylat System was a trainwreck after Andross invaded. Got tired of getting stabbed in the back… figured if I wanted a better bed, I'd have to make it myself."

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"Better," she repeated, dryly.Condescending little prick. ”That's awfully noble of you."

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"Shoulda seen it six years ago, lady. Trust me, I run a tight ship."

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"I'm sure you do." She didn't believe him for a second."Why work for Andross?"

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"No choice."

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"Hmm." Another sip of her coffee."The public sees you as symbolic of Andross's assault on Corneria. Any elected or appointed official who takes a public stance on commuting your sentence will suffer extreme backlash.There would need to be a vast swing in public opinion about you, which, frankly, is difficult given your active involvement in one of today's largest known criminal enterprises."

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"Tell me something I don't know," Wolf muttered."This is exactly why I told Eli this was a waste of my fucking time."

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"I appreciate your willingness to meet with me, although I admit that I question your motivations for doing so.” He hated how rehearsed she sounded. “An article purporting to expose the truth of Wolf O'Donnell's troubled past would see an immense amount of public attention, and it could potentially sway the narrative about you.But it would also receive an incredible amount of scrutiny.Your story would be popular, but surely you can understand that a story about criminals, by criminals, is unlikely to sway many minds."

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“I said tell me something I _don’t_ know.”

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She continued with the script. “We place a high emphasis on journalistic integrity.Manufactured stories are becoming increasingly common as people realize the power of public narratives."She met his eyes now."So, if you're able to corroborate the stories you've told me, we might be able to help you out."

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Wolf considered that over another sip of coffee. "I'll bring you all the sources you want. They'll say anything I tell them to."

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“Very cute, Mr. O'Donnell."Fox would have laughed at that. “I’m referring to any sort of official documents, digitally-signed communications…”

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Wolf rubbed at his nose.“Yeah, we criminals keep organized notes and always sign our messages.”

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"Then, Mr. O'Donnell, I'm afraid your hunch might have been correct, and your story might be more suited for a biography than an article."

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He leaned back up into his chair. “Yeah. That's what I thought."

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"But," she said, "in the spirit of journalistic integrity, I have a couple of other questions I'd like to ask you."

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"You know," Wolf said, giving his half-full coffee a little push back on the table. "I think I'm done here."

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"Some reports have indicated your presence planetside. Where were you on the seventeenth of last month?"

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Wolf laughed."You really think the CDF can stop me?"

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“We received a series of... anonymous tips," she said."They indicated your presence planetside on five periods in the past three months. How about the twenty-third?“

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If he had a leak, he needed to plug it. “Here’s a story for you: making something illegal won’t make me stop doing it. Otherwise I woulda offed myself eight years ago when they put a lotto jackpot on my head.“Did she expect him to fear the CDF knowing where he was at? Did she expect him to think the CDF could scare him? “Make sure Corneria knows that bounty on my head won’t stop me from doing shit.All it does is make things worse.” Still standing, he leaned over the table to sneer at her.“Corneria made me. They made me just as much as Andross did.”

__

“Interesting,” she said.“One of our tippers managed to work out a timeline, using a conglomerate of multiple surveillance systems over the city.Now, we receive these sorts of tips all the time—the evidence is legally questionable at best, but as I already planned to meet with you, I figured I might ask.”

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Wolf slowly sat back down. He didn’t like her tone.“What are you talking about?”

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“Bear in mind that I’m recording this conversation,” she said.What a goddamn punchable face. Fucking minks always thought they were hot shit just because they felt like velvet. “Our tipper managed to place you and McCloud at a rental cabin last weekend.”

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Wolf went cold.

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“We receive hundreds of tips about him every week,” the mink continued. “I only investigated this one because I was scheduled to meet with you anyway. Imagine my surprise when the evidence held up. What exactly were you and McCloud doing?”

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“We were—” Wolf’s tongue tangled. He had to say something.“We work on missions together, sometimes.”

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“Right.”She had eyes only for her tablet, and her fingers busily tapped away.“We’ll contact him to follow up.What sort of missions?”

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Wolf took in a deep breath. He could see the headlines now: _Corneria’s Underworld Ties_ : _McCloud and O’Donnell’s Secret Collusion._

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One word to Fox from one person about Wolf, and they were over. Wolf threatened his mask more than anything else.

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Wolf let out that breath in a hurried gush.“Don’t contact Fox.”He downed the rest of his coffee in one huge gulp because its bitter burn was preferable to this conversation. He thought about her pretty purple dress and gleaming earrings. “How much do I have to pay you to keep this story quiet?”

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The jerk of her snout told him she wasn’t expecting that. “You could start by telling me who on the CDF you’re bribing to cover up your planetside visits.”

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Wolf curled over the table and sighed.“Okay.”

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* * *

__

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The dissected carcasses of seven dysfunctional blasters lay strewn across his workshop desk.Wolf jammed a screwdriver into the Frankenstein abomination born of their blood and guts.

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He’d known the ritual half his life.The other boys, wide-eyed teens brimming with youthful excitement, had run off to sneak into clubs and amusement parks while a fifteen-year-old Wolf had labored at a folded table in Fang’s chopshop.Between stints rolled underneath fighters and hovercars brandishing his multi-tool, the burly crocodile'd loomed over the folding table and inspected the product of Wolf’s work.

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“Do it over.”

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The others had partied their credits away while Wolf’s stash grew. A hundred here, a hundred there. He was a nothing, a nameless grunt canvassing the streets, and nothings never lasted. His strategy was becoming so useful that the higher-ups couldn’t ignore him.

__

“Do it over.”

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Fang’s wifebeaters never lasted a day without catching a splotch of oil. Dirty work made dirty messes. The crocodile still had those black leather boots to this day; took better care of them than his body.

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“Do it over.”

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After a day’s sulking, the ritual comforted him like an old friend.

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“Ain’t too bad.” He still had that same grin, a lopsided sneer around a mouthful of crocodile teeth.“Give ‘er a try.”

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Now just as then, Wolf raised the final product and aimed it at a blackened crisp of sheet metal propped up against the wall.His hand shook.

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One shot. He had one shot with Fox.

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He pulled the trigger. The gun whined, hummed, and vomited a glob of plasma that smoked against the wall, a half-foot away from his makeshift target.Pounding a fist on the table, Wolf sucked his teeth.

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Even when Wolf tried his heart out, he only worsened life for the people born without his black mark.

__

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* * *

__

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Neither of them had time for nightly calls, but speaking two or three times a week came naturally.Wolf slipped an indifferent mask over his latent panic, and despite decades of his own life on the line, he found it more taxing now, when only his Fox was on the line.

__

Fox had shown him his latest project and largest undertaking yet: a half-painted model of the Great Fox. Wolf had brought his blaster and talked Fox through his early street life, how he pillaged the dead to make more tools for death that begot him more dead to pillage.But he still didn’t mention Andross.

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“So,” he said to Fox on comm,“you usually top?”

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Fox’s holo nodded.“People assume I’m a bottom until they see my dick, and then they want me to top.”

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“And what do you want with me?”

__

“Next time? I wanna top.” He grunted and his ears flickered.“Even if I couldn’t throat all of you.”

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“That’s fine. You still want me to ride you, or?”

__

“Any time you want. But I do want you to submit to me for a change.”

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Wolf chewed on his bottom lip. 

__

He told himself he owed Fox an in-person conversation, but the cynical part of him sneered back he was just kicking the can farther down the line. An even more cynical part of him insisted that difficult conversations were easier while basking in the afterglow.

__

“Can we work a compromise? You come visit me. I know, that’s a lot to ask.But it’s faster and easier. I can find a station for us to have all by ourselves.” Wolf cracked an artificial grin. “Come visit me, and I’ll wait with my ass in the air and my tail up.”

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Fox’s snout broke into a grin, too.“Deal. I’m a little busy this weekend, but I can make Saturday night work. How’s that?”

__

“Perfect.” Wolf grinned back, because he still had a chance.“Can’t wait, pup.”

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* * *

__

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They all clustered against the round table on that dreary third-floor meeting room for their end-of-the-week meeting:Gorath, Leon, Panther, Mira, and Wolf.

__

“Things will be more difficult for us in the coming months.” Wolf paced the room, jabbing a finger at the calendar on the screen.“I’ve had to give up several of my key contacts in the CDF.Getting anyone with a criminal record down on Corneria just got way harder.”

__

Mira peered down the rim of his glasses at his tablet. “Our profits on Corneria form an important part of our financial backbone.Without them, there is a chance for Oikonny to regain some footing.”

__

“We won’t lose it completely.” He gestured towards Gorath, who made the whole room look small; they’d had to haul in an oversized chair that could support the pachyderm’s weight.“G, I might have to station you back on Corneria. You can be my fist.”

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After a month of collaborating with Gorath, Wolf still couldn’t read the elephant’s expression. The inscrutability might annoy him if it wasn’t such a valuable asset. “Whatever you say, boss.”

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Wolf turned to Mira.“We’ll win Corneria back in time, but it’ll take a while for me to sniff out new contacts. In the meantime, we’ll have to adjust our strategy. Do some thinking?”

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Mira hummed.“Yes, Boss. If we cannot rely on footholds in Corneria, it is increasingly important that we gain ground on Katina.”

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“You let me know if there’s anything you need.”

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The weasel clasped his hands. “I may have to spend some more time planetside. The locals, they do not trust me yet. And they certainly would not trust you, given your reputation. I pose less of a threat.”

__

Wolf nodded. “Do what you need to, but stay safe. I don’t want to have to bail your ass out again.”

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“As for the team?”Wolf closed his calendar and looked over each member of Star Wolf.“We’ve got a long few weeks ahead of us. I want each of you to be sure you take care of yourselves.Hit the gym, but don’t push it. Sleep well—I don’t want your reaction times shot.And listen to your body.”

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“There is one more item, Boss.”Mira peered over his tablet.“I received a tip from Eli earlier today. There is a supply ship heading to Katina, carrying weapons and fighters for the CDF.”

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Wolf frowned. “I haven’t heard anything about this.”

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“There have been attempts to keep the shipments quiet, after our last attack.”

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“We’ll prioritize it. Twelve flights in three weeks. It’ll be rough, but we can manage.“

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“The ship is set to pass through Sector Five next Saturday at Cornerian sunset.”

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Wolf deflated.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more to go and this story's a wrap. Stay tuned for a couple of announcements at the end!
> 
> In this chapter we come full circle and deliver on a couple of promises I made in chapter one. I might have invested more into fleshing out characters like Fang and Eli and Mira if I knew how much meat I planned on adding to the story, but as is, my apologies for the throwbacks to characters mentioned in passing only one or two times in the very first chapter.
> 
> As always, appreciate the comments and kudos and messages I get. The number of people reading this surprises me given that it sits in an awkward limbo content-wise and has an extraordinary-unlikeable protagonist until chapter five. You guys have motivated me to invest far more effort into this than I ever planned on.


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